


These City Lights

by Katsy0c0



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Hollywood, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Scandal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:47:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 74,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2717696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katsy0c0/pseuds/Katsy0c0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At a time where scandals in Hollywood were new yet frequent, aspiring director Armin Arlert's rather violent script, along with his growing relationship with his leading lady Annie (Leon)Hart, may not be in his best interest. Not that it's stopping him in any way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Angel in Devil's Shoes

_ September, 1923 _

The music around him was close to deafening. Perhaps it was all too loud, but Armin didn’t mind too much. The decorations were particularly bombastic, as were the outfits of his fellow partygoers. Again, Armin didn’t mind. All around him were people that simply wanted to have a good time. However, his idea of a good time was far from the lavish parties his friends often threw for what seemed like no reason in particular. If it weren’t for the fact that Jean was such a good friend and promised him a meeting over Armin’s upcoming film project, he’d be at home reading a book under dim light.

Still, he didn’t mind.

“Armin!” He heard an all-too enthusiastic southern drawl yell from across the room. “Come and dance with me!”

Sasha bounced on her black heels, the ruffles on her dress flowing with each movement of her body. She was all smiles even as Armin shook his head.

“Not tonight Sash, I’m actually waiting for someone.” He took a tentative sip from his glass, a slight grimace gracing his face from the bitter taste.

“Aw, rhatz.” She leaned against a nearby chair and huffed, glancing around for anyone she knew. “Connie’s playing trumpet tonight, and Jean said he’s too busy being a good host...phooey, if you ask me. He promised me last time he’d let me show him a few things, but he just left me holding the bag once again...”

Armin chuckled, and she smiled at him in return. “I’m real sorry. M-Maybe Mar-”

“Marco!” She bounced up, and fixed her dress before making her way out into the hall. “See ya Armin! Hope you find who you’re looking for!” Armin set his glass down and waved, though she was out of sight in an instant. “I hope so too.”

He sighed, and leaned back. No, Armin didn’t mind the parties. He didn’t mind his friends having fun doing things he himself didn’t enjoy, or wasn’t particularly good at. He would have gladly taken Sasha up on her offer if he was any good a dancer. All he could really do was sit back and chat, rely on his people skills, and maybe choke down a few drinks if the situation called for it. And people did often come up and talk to him. It was to be expected after having two very successful short films in about two years. Not too long ago Armin could have easily stayed in the background at these things, but now it was hard to walk to the bathroom without someone pulling him aside and congratulating him, or “discreetly” asking him if he had any open roles for a next project.

Now that, Armin did mind.

“Hey!” Another loud voice called over the music from across the room, but a voice Armin wanted to hear. Eren, like Sasha, seemed oddly enthusiastic and almost bouncy. It wouldn’t have been odd if it weren’t for the fact that Armin knew he usually hated these kinds of events.

“Saved a seat for you.” Armin smiled, and pulled up the two chairs opposite of him. “Where’s Mikasa?”

“Good question, she’s uhhh,” Oh yeah, Armin could tell his best friend was already a little buzzed. “She’s in the bathroom powdering her nose, uh, I stepped on her foot and I think she’s a little mad about it? I don’t know.” Eren sat back and asked the bartender for a belt of liquor before clearing his throat. “Fuck it, I was getting so close too…”

Armin raised an eyebrow, and Eren began to pout with a deeply furrowed brow. “Close to what?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Eren glanced at him as he took a sip of his drink, which Armin was tempted to take away from him. “I’m, I’m asking her to marry me.” Suddenly Eren looked very sheepish.

Armins eyes went wide. “You didn’t tell me! At least, not that you were asking her tonight. You talked like it was a few years away at best!” Armin sighed, but couldn’t contain his smile. “I don’t think she’d even think you were serious with that edge of yours right now.”

“Edge?” The confusion on his face said it all. “I only had a glass or three before hand!” He furrowed his brow once again and rubbed his eyes.

“You weren’t originally planning to do it tonight, were you?”

Eren shook his head and huffed, taking another sip of his drink.

“Eren, I know it’s hard to do even without a couple of drinks, but you really need to think that kind of thing through!” Like Eren was ever one to think things out in the first place.

“Tch, lay off…” Eren snickered despite himself, and ordered them another round against Armin’s protests.

“I-I can’t get drunk, I have to meet someone.” Armin pushed it away, giving Eren a small glare that didn’t seem to compute. “Remember?”

“The actress?” Armin nodded, and Eren noted the nervous gulp he took. “How come you haven’t chit chatted with her yet? We’ve been here at least two hours.”

Honestly, Armin wondered the same thing. In those two hours he’d wandered around Jeans beachside mansion about three times and had yet to come across the blonde actress he was so eager to meet. The thought of it made his face light up. To meet the young actress he’d been entranced with since he first came across her in 1919, when she was just making her debut on film and he was simply thankful to still be breathing. Not just meeting her, but offering her a role. The excitement started to bubble up in him, and he hopped up from his chair. “I’m gonna go find Jean, he probably knows something!”

Eren came up from another swig. “Wha? You’re leaving me for that egg??” Armin was definitely about to take his glass away as his intoxication became more apparent. He sighed and did just that, much to Eren’s chagrin.

“Leave the bartender an ace or two, would ya?” He nodded and smiled at the man who had so generously served them their share of the bootleg liquor in Jean’s mansion. “I probably won’t be long, so don’t move.”

“H-Heeeey wait...At leasst find Mikasha for me?” Eren’s slurred speech earned a chuckle out of a slightly concerned Armin.

Even so, Armin nodded and began to move out of the crowded room, leaving Eren to wallow as Mikasa entered on que. Armin sighed in relief at that and moved along.

The hallways were unusually, and unfortunately, crowded as far as Jean’s parties usually went. Looking around, Armin saw everyone from excited college friends, to aspiring actresses and other directors enjoying their time in New York before what they assumed would be their time in Hollywood. Even one of the producers of the studio Armin had a contract with, Mr. Smith if he recalled, was schmoozing with a rather surly and tired looking photographer, a cigar between his fingers and smoke emitting from his lips.

Down that particular hallway led outside to the beach. The sky was getting darker, but it was hard to tell with all the lamps and lights that illuminated the shore. The sea salt air hit him the moment he stepped out into the night, the calm atmosphere of the waves crashing down in direct contrast to the life and party going on around him.  People were chatting and laughing ceaselessly, and he was almost ready to turn around when he noticed Jean off to the side talking with two rather large fellow leading men. Who could ever turn away after hearing the boisterous laugh of the burley Reiner Braun to begin with?

“Here comes the next D.W. Griffith himself!” Reiner beckoned Armin over to their little group of three, a large smile on his face. Jean had a glass in his hand and a slight stagger in his step. Great, Armin thought. Two drunk friends he’ll inevitably have to listen to or take care of tomorrow.  

Still, he smiled on. “I wouldn’t say that exactly.” A small blush spread across his cheeks. “Two short films don’t add up to much.”        

“Eh, don’t be such a wet blanket and get over here!” Reiner’s laugh broke through again, and Armin relented. He was mere inches away before Jean grabbed him and put his arm around his shoulder. Armin could smell the alcohol emanating off of him. He scrunched his nose, but Jean didn’t seem to notice.

“This guy,” Jean started, before taking a big swig of his drink. “This fella right here!” He poked Armin in the chest, who returned it with a nervous smile directed at Reiner and his taller companion, Bertholdt. “This fella is gonna be bigger than Griffith!”

“J-Jean…” Bertholdt, the most sober of that trio, stammered out, sensing Armin’s discomfort. Armin met his eye, smiled, and shook his head.

He brushed off Jean’s arm and turned to face him, hoping to at least get something out of him despite how increasingly drunk he was getting. He pulled him away from the group and said his goodbyes as Bertholdt tried to take control of the drunk Reiner. “Uh, Jean, where is she?”

“Where is she who?” Jean asked, cocking a brow and taking a last sip of his glass.

Armin frowned. “Annie Hart. The whole reason I came tonight, remember?”

For a moment, Jean had a blank stare. “Anniiiiiie…..Annie! Yeah, Annie, for that...film project a’ yours.”

“Jean, you’re in that film project of mine.” Armin sighed, and wondered why he even bothered with Jean like that. For all he knew, Jean didn’t even know he was in his own home. “Well…do you know where she is?”

“Aw, your face is red. Just say you gotta crush, Arlert.” He laughed to himself, and Armin groaned. At that point he was ready to step away. “Sweet Annie….isn’t here.”

“What?” Armin could feel his heart sinking, a look of disappointment quickly forming on his face. “But you said-”

“I said-,” Jean cleared his throat, blinking several times to regain his footing. “I said I invited her to come and meet you, I didn’t say she accepted my invitation.” He grabbed a glass off a passing tray and took a swig, giving a dazed smile in return to Armin’s wry expression. “She doesn’t come to these things often. Wanna drink?”

Armin stared at him for a moment. Suddenly, that drink didn’t sound like such a bad idea. Perhaps, just maybe, Jean’s inebriation made him less reliable. And yet Armin knew he was right. He’d walked around several times and saw no sign of the blonde actress. The face of Annie Hart was one he’d recognize easily in a crowd like this. He put his face in his hands and groaned. “Ugh, go drink a glass of water and sit down. Or at least call Marco tomorrow to complain about your hangover instead of me. Thanks for trying to help.”

It didn’t take him long to feel a twinge of guilt at his bitter tone. After all, he thought, it’s not Jean’s fault that an industry novice like Armin had no business expecting an actress as big as Annie, no matter how good his story was. The only reason Jean was involved was because the two had been long time friends since high school. And at the end of the day, it’s the connections you have that truly make or break you.

Still, Jean was in his right mind enough to know when to leave him alone. With a sympathetic smile, he put his hand on Armin’s shoulder. “You’ll get her, buddy.” Next thing Armin knew, Jean was staggering away, calling for a scotch and asking where Marco was. Armin stood alone in the crowd, taking in a deep breath of the sea-salt air to process his disappointment.

“Damn.” He spit out under his breath, moving back into the house and through the now suffocating halls. Armin had no clue where to go from there. No, he knew he wanted to go home. The party would surely go on into the a.m., but Armin wanted nothing more than to curl up under the covers in his cozy Brooklyn apartment. At the moment, he thought, Eren was no doubt wasted and making a fool of himself while his intentions fly over Mikasa’s head as nonsense. Seeing as he lived with them, there probably wouldn’t be any leaving for at least another hour or so.  

In the adjacent room, he could hear excited hollers of “Get hot! Get hot!” He peaked in and saw Sasha grinning wide as she danced side by side with her bandleader boyfriend. Of course, Connie could never stay away from her the entire night. It was a happy sight at least, making Armin perk up just enough to smile and laugh along with everyone else. Behind him could be heard the most recognizable laugh of all.

Armin turned his head and saw Reiner and Bertholdt down the hall, schmoozing with a couple of musicians who Armin barely recognized. Even Bertl had a glass in his hand, probably giving up on controlling Reiner for the evening.

If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. An old saying that certainly rang true as Armin grabbed a glass of whiskey off a passing by tray. He winced as he guzzled down the first bitter sip, yet even the burning sensation going down his throat couldn’t stop him. Before he knew it, a second, third glass was in his hand, and when Sasha waved him over, he almost fell by simply waving back.

Now, there are several different kinds of drunk someone can become. There’s the angry drunk, one whom Armin had the privilege to have never come across. There’s the laughing, obnoxious idiot drunk that Reiner and Jean quickly became after several glasses. There’s the drunk who regresses into almost a sort of needy child. Eren, for example.

Then there’s the drunk who after several glasses of hard liquor can barely remember who they are, nevermind where they are. That would be Armin Arlert. And that was definitely the case by glass number five.

“Armin, buddy!” Connie called from across the room, getting a laugh at Armin’s obvious edge. Armin turned to him and grinned, almost dropping his glass in the process when he took his first staggered steps. “Sasha wants to know if you’re sloshed enough to dance! I have to go back and play!”

“Psshhhft-” Armin stumbled over, using Connie’s shoulder to support himself. “I’m-” he cleared his throat and laughed, covering his face with one hand. “Shasha? Shashaaaaaaa.,” Connie could smell the whiskey on his breath, and Armin didn’t bother to lower his voice despite the fact that the two were inches away. The music was particularly muffled in that room anyway. “Oooohhh god nooooo she’ll be so sad…”

Connie laughed, and propped Armin back up as he began to fall over. “Whoa, don’t pass out just yet!”

“Nnnnnever!” Armin rubbed his eyes, but it did little to help the fuzziness of the figures around him. He could barely make out Connie’s face. “Have you seen Annie???”

“Who’s Annie?” Connie questioned, trying hard to keep in his laughter at the rare sight of an inebriated Armin. “I think you need to go lay down, fella. Hey. blondie!” He called to a woman near by. “Watch my friend for me! Make sure he doesn’t start any fights or steal anything. He’s an unpredictable one, I tell ya!” Connie left the room with a chuckle, and Armin was left leaning against the wall and downing another glass.

“Fffffffutz-” He pushed up from the wall to try his best to make his way back to Eren and Mikasa. The most progress he made was about two step before he tripped right into another party-goer, the blonde one Connie had called to, spilling her own drink on her red dress. He looked up and could barely make out her features, thanks in part to the dark birdcage hair piece that covered her eyes. Though at least she didn’t seem to be scowling. Instead she was laughing, probably not in the best of minds herself.

“I would sock you, kid,” She slurred out, grabbing Armin by the collar. He winced, and felt a burning sensation grow on his cheeks when he noticed how close the woman was. “If you weren’t so damn cute.”

Armin bit his lip and chuckled, the noise emitting from his lips almost sounded like a raspberry. He was too dazed to even respond, and too disoriented to move without falling over.

The woman cleared her throat. “So what’ll it be, mac? Is the bank closed tonight?”

As if Armin wasn’t already flushed enough. Even in a drunken daze he knew what she was offering. Were he in his right mind, he would have simply apologized and bought her another drink, said goodnight, and left. However, as he finished his seventh glass, he had no qualms with a little drunk necking.

She pushed him up against the wall, and their lips met sloppy and fast. Her mouth was soft against his and Armin tasted the unmistakable flavor of vodka on her lips. Her fingers threaded through his hair, and his hands were at her waist, not so subtly moving down to grope at her ass. He broke away from her lips and kissed across her jaw and down her neck, where he stayed for awhile before going to her ear and whispering something that caused her to blush deeper than she already was. His lips met hers again, and he could swear he was dreaming this whole thing. Nothing but a drunken mind trick. Not that he even cared at that point. He continued to kiss her, and at one point he turned them over so she was against the wall. It wasn’t long after this that he was finally snapped back into the real world and forced away.

“I’ll be taking this.” Mikasa grabbed him by the back of the collar. “Have a nice night, miss.”

Armin barely got to wave goodbye before Mikasa swung him over one shoulder and began to move out. Her absurd strength came in handy in even this situation. “Taxi’s outside, we’re going home.”

“ Soo you’re not marrying me?!” Eren was on her other shoulder, barely conscious as he continued to whine to her. “Mikasaaaaaa marry meeeeee.”

She sighed and said goodnight to a barely sober Jean before carrying the two out, ignoring any odd stares she got along the way.

* * *

Armin was rudely woken up the next morning by the sound of a tea kettle. His head was throbbing, but the pain was dull and much better than the splitting headache he knew Eren was going to be waking up with. For a quick healer, his best friend certainly didn’t deal with hangovers well. Slowly, Armin lifted his head and rubbed his eyes. He scanned the room, and noted the glasses of water left on their individual night stands, no doubt from Mikasa. Poor Mikasa, who had to carry them both up to their apartment while Eren no doubt made an ass of himself in repeatedly asking her to marry him. He wondered if she took Eren’s question seriously at all.

Reluctantly, Armin lifted himself from his bed and threw on his robe and slippers. It must have been close to noon. He guzzled down his glass of water and examined his face in the mirror. The bags under his eyes made it look like he hadn't slept in days, while the dry drool on the side of his mouth indicated otherwise. All that mixed with the dull ache in his head, and Armin was reminded why he rarely ever drank, none the less got drunk.

“Aspirin’s in the cabinet.” Mikasa chimed up when he stumbled into the kitchen. Armin smiled and nodded at her before moving to get the medicine. He could smell bacon cooking on the stove. Really, he didn’t know how he and Eren could get through anything without Mikasa there.

“Ugh, I’m sorry Mikasa.” He sat at the table and buried his face in his hands, though primarily to shield his eyes from the overhead light. She stayed standing at the stove, a grin pulling at her lips.

“Lay off the whiskey next time and it’s okay.” She turned with two cups of tea in her hands, and passed one over to Armin. “Though I think I should save the lecture for Eren.”

Armin smiled and nodded as he sipped the hot drink, the ache in his head slowly fading. “I don’t think he’ll be up for a while.”

“I know.” She sighed, a slightly solemn look on her face as she got up and turned off the stove. “I’m trying to make sure he’s as well rested and comfortable as possible when he does wake up.”

Armin examined her, noting the subtle determined glint in her eyes as she grabbed the aspirin and a washcloth that was damp with warm water. Her hands seemed dry and cracked at the surface, something that usually didn’t happen till cold mid-winters.

“You work too hard.”

She didn’t pay him much mind except to give him a small grin. Armin knew that was all the reaction he would get out of her. In her mind, when it came to the people she loved there was no limit. If she risked contracting influenza to take care of Armin a few years ago, taking care of Eren’s hangover now was nothing.

“Do you mind taking the aspirin?” Mikasa handed it over to him before picking up a third cup of tea. The washcloth was held tight in her other hand. Armin felt fairly dizzy, but followed her back into the bedroom. Eren had barely moved since Armin stepped out. The only change was the growing drool stain on his pillow. Gingerly, Mikasa set the washcloth across his forehead and the cup of tea down on his nightstand. The most he did was grunt in response. Mikasa crouched beside him, placing the back of her hand on his cheek. “He’s out like a light.”

Armin sat back on his bed and smiled at her, taking a sip from his cup. “I would say we can talk at a normal level, but my head is only barely starting to clear up.”   

He set his mug down on his own nightstand, careful not to damage his copy of Photoplay that rested on it. A slightly embarrassing week-old purchase that got him his fair share of teasing from his roommates. To be fair, Armin was never one to waste money on such a thing. He wouldn’t have even bothered were it not for the particular actress who graced the cover. Of course, the caption didn’t help the teasing. _America’s Angel; Hart’s Got Heart!_

“Why does it have to be her?” Mikasa cut into Armin’s train of thought, and he glanced up at her, his cheeks tinged red.

“...I, it’s uh, it’s a little silly…” He averted his eyes from hers and scratched at his cheek.

“I bet it’s not.” She gave him a soft smile, which comforted him significantly more. He sat crosslegged on his bed and leaned against his palms.

“She’s, well, she’s sort of my muse.” He blushed, letting out a nervous laugh and fidgeting with his hands. “Do you remember a couple years ago when I finally recovered and you and Eren took me to the movies to lift my spirits?” Mikasa nodded and smiled at the memory. “We went to see a few Chaplin shorts, and she was in one of them.”

“Was she?” Mikasa cocked a brow as she began to shift her position and hug in her legs. “I don’t remember seeing her.”

“It was 1919. Hell, I’m sure that film was her debut. She was no Mary Pickford.” He paused for a moment to take a sip of his tea. “I think what captured my attention was how surprisingly subtle she was. If you compare her style to that of, say, Christa Lenz, there’s something completely different. There was no exaggeration. She was able to get across so much emotion with the most subtle of movements of her face and hands alone…and, well, okay, the far more simplistic answer is she inspired me to begin.”

Mikasa grinned at him. “So basically you’re a shameless goofy fan?”

“Well,” Armin’s cheeks went red again. “I-I think it’s a lot more than that-” His story was cut off abruptly, interrupted by the obnoxious ringing of their telephone.

“God damnit.” They heard Eren bark from under the pillow he was pressing to his ears. Mikasa turned to him concerned. “Someone get the fucking phone before my head splits open.”

Mikasa got up quick and picked the phone up from Armin’s desk. Eren let out a sigh of relief when the ringing finally stopped.

“Hello?” She answered close to a whisper. Eren’s face was completely buried in his pillow as low grumbles could be heard. “Jean?”

“Tell him we don’t want any.” Eren snapped from under his pillow. Mikasa shot him a look.

“Yeah, he’s right here. Armin, he wants to talk to you.”

Armin raised a brow, but slowly got up and walked over to the phone. He smiled at Mikasa and took the receiver in his hands. “Try not to talk too loud Jean, my head isn’t done pounding me yet.”

“Believe me, I’d still be sleeping the day away if it wasn’t from a call I got a few minutes ago. I haven’t left my bed.” Armin could hear the lack of sleep and hangover in Jean’s voice, almost humorously. “So...okay, as it turns out I was wrong last night.”

“What do you mean?” Armin sat at his desk, his free hands playing with a stray pencil.

“I was wrong. Ms. Annie was there last night.” Armin’s hands stopped what they were doing, his eyes quickly going wide.

“Are you sure?! But you said-”

“I know, I know what I said.” Jean huffed, and for a moment spoke to someone else in the room with him. Armin recognized the other voice, but was too focused on his missed opportunity to care about who Jean had spent a night with. “Well, I wasn’t exactly wrong. She came later. She wasn’t there last I checked the guest list, and by the time she did I was too zozzled to pay much mind so….woops?”

Armin was silent for a moment, his face set in a way that let all in the room with him know that Armin Arlert was more than a little done with that morning. “...For cryin’ out loud, Jean.”

“...Don’t get grummy, though, buddy I did manage to fix just about everything.” The optimism in his voice was promising. “That call I got was from Ms. Hart herself telling me that I shouldn’t trick her into coming to another party with job offers, but I gave her your address and she should be at your door any minute.”

“What?!” Panic swelled up in him as he looked around the room. A room that hadn't been cleaned in three days with a hungover roommate still in bed. Armin himself didn’t look too great, either. “Jean, I’m not ready yet!”

“Bushwa.” Jean snorted, and yawned before speaking again. “You’ll do great. No need to thank me now. I’m just doing my job as your friend and leading man.” Armin could practically feel his self-satisfied grin. “Just show her your draft and be on your way. She’s not exactly unfamiliar with that type of role.”

Armin took in a deep breath, trying his best to calm down his nerves. A familiar knot built up in his stomach as he processed this. “...Okay. Thanks, Jean. Go back to sleep.”

“I plan to.” Jean sounded quite a bit more pleasant as he signed off. “Tell me how it goes, okay? Don’t make an idiot out of yourself, ya big sap.”

Jean hung up, and Armin took in a huge gulp before setting the phone down himself. Mikasa met his eyes, and he looked like nothing short of a deer in the headlights.

“I-I gotta get ready!” Armin shot up from his chair and ran toward his dresser, almost tripping in the process. His headache was completely ignored even though it seemed to be getting worse again.  

“Slowdown.” Mikasa followed him, leaving a seemingly sleeping Eren’s side. “What’s eating you?”

“I can’t find anything clean and spiffy, that’s what’s eating me…” Armin grabbed and pulled at his already disheveled mess of blond hair as he frantically searched for a clean pair of trousers and a button-up. “I-I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet.”

Mikasa opened up a drawer and searched with him. “If she’s coming, I’m sure it won’t be for at least an hour or two.” Of course she spoke far too soon. As Armin grabbed for the closest thing to clean trousers he could find, the nerve wracking buzz of the doorbell sounded across their apartment, earning an annoyed groan from Eren. Armin’s head shot up, his heart beginning to practically hammer out of his chest. He glanced at Mikasa with wide-eyes, and she seemed to understand his pleading look.

“I guess I’ll go make her some coffee. You have a clean shirt in the closet, I believe.” Armin smiled at her, then continued to dig through his clothes. By the time he heard the front door click closed and the sound of heels on tile, he had a toothbrush in his mouth and a white shirt untucked and half-way buttoned. His suspenders hung uselessly from his pants as his fingers fumbled with several buttons. From the crack in the door, he could see the activity going on in the kitchen.

He moved closer and peaked out, mindlessly buttoning and unbuttoning an area of his shirt as he finally got a glimpse of the woman he had only had the pleasure of seeing on screen or in magazines. Mikasa offered her coffee, and told her Armin was just getting some things together. Not entirely wrong.

Annie sat at the kitchen table, one ankle crossed over the other, and her face leaning on her palm. Her finger waved blonde hair fell into her eyes, and she pushed it back with her other hand, revealing a very striking pair of blues. The plain cream cloche on her head added a nice simplistic charm, in contrast to the glamorous atmosphere she had a tendency to give off in pictures.

All he could think was, wow, she really is an angel. And she looked...bored.

Not that he could blame her.

“Do you take sugar?” Mikasa asked, grabbing a cup from an above cupboard. Annie nodded, and thanked her before leaning back in her seat. For the second time in only minutes Armin’s heart was pounding. He leaned against the doorway, shirt buttoned up finally, and toothbrush working again as he continued to just take all of her in. He didn’t completely know what he was feeling. In front of him was a woman who he had been eager to meet for years. Someone who he knew only through film, to the point where most people would forget she was even real. Someone he felt an odd kinship with. And there she was sitting at his kitchen table.

He was in such a daze he didn’t even notice she was staring right back at him.

“Hi.”

Armin almost choked on his toothbrush. He stepped back and slammed the door, heat rising on his cheeks from the utter humiliation. While slipping his suspenders onto his shoulders and tucking in his shirt, he sprinted to the bathroom to spit out the toothpaste that also ran the risk of choking him. He was finally able to breathe, his face red as a tomato when he looked up into the mirror. For a moment, he hid his face in his hands to let out a much needed groan.

“Okay,” He took in another deep breath, and exhaled to a count of twelve. “You can do this. You have to do this. You can do this.” He repeated as he continually splashed water on his face. Of course he could do it. He had a solid story and a contract with a large studio out west. Not to mention a small name for himself thanks to a couple short films, and a silver tongue to boot, so why would she say no? Well, there were a number of reasons why, but he didn’t want to focus on that. Out the door, he could hear the faint sound of the radio playing a little jazz tune in the kitchen. With one more splash to the face, he was ready.

The script on his desk felt particularly heavy as he slipped it under his arm, and turning the doorknob was more difficult than it should have been. On the other side, Mikasa greeted him with a smile while Annie’s eyes were focused on the mug in her hands.

“Do you want any coffee?” Mikasa offered. Her way of subtle reassurance. Armin shook his head and thanked her, and she in turn made her way out of the kitchen, but not before giving him a pat on the shoulder and a kiss on the cheek.

And just like that they were alone. Armin still had trouble believing the woman in front of him was actually there. His cheeks felt hot again when she looked up from her mug and met his eyes. Her powerful, yet oddly soft stare left him momentarily breathless.

“I’m sorry I missed you last night.” He said in his most sincere tone of voice, a light smile gracing his lips.

Her long fingers held the mug in her hands tight. “It’s not your fault. Our gracious host and most around him were too plastered to care by the time I arrived.”

“Heh, yeah.” Armin’s cheeks grew pink at the memory of his own intoxication. He was just glad he had barely any memory of what happened during. Annie’s eyes glanced him up and down as he stood, a heavy silence growing over them as she continued to bore into him, trying her best to figure out the scrawny writer in front of her. She wasn’t the only one though. Armin took little notice to the heavy atmosphere. For the life of him, he wanted to be able to read her expression.

“You don’t look much like a director.” She quipped, taking a sip of her coffee. Her voice had a monotone quality to it, something which he hadn't expected, telling from her screen presence.

“Not tall enough?” He pulled out a chair for himself and sat across from her, his eyes reluctant to tear away.

“Not hard enough.” She responded, leaning back in her seat. If she were slightly less polite, she would have half a mind to comment on his absurdly youthful appearance as well.

The light accent to come out of her, which made it obvious she grew up in one of the boroughs, was also a bit unexpected. Armin didn’t mind one bit. He found it strangely melodious, and wished she would say more.

He smiled at her, and hoped to eventually see a genuine smile from her too. “You’re not the first person to call me a sap, Ms. Annie.”

“I didn’t imply you were a sap. I implied you looked soft. When I made eye contact with you before, you scurried away like a scared puppy,” Though her statement sounded harsh, something told Armin she didn’t mean it that way. Her atmosphere was certainly a lot cooler then he would have imagined, as opposed to the gentle ingenue she would pretend to be in film. “The men I’ve worked with would already be staring me down and telling me which way to turn my head and cry by now. Some of them are more like generals. I wouldn’t have known you were my prospective director if that dame of yours didn’t tell me.”

“‘Dame of mine?’” Armin chuckled, and pulled his chair in closer. “It’s not like that, I can assure you. Mikasa’s like a sister to me. Not to mention, she’s actually with my best friend Eren. Ah, he lives here too, he’s just passed out in the-”   

 “No need to reassure me, I actually didn’t care, to be honest.”

Armin stared at her for a moment. _She’s certainly got a sharp tongue to spare._ Another unexpected thing about the young actress. Of course, Armin was never foolish enough to mistake a screen persona for the actual person. So far, he found her more than a little intriguing. Still, he smiled. “Should I take that as a no, Ms. Annie?”

“Oh, of course not.” She leaned forward on her palms again, her expression changing minimally with the exception of widened eyes. “At least give me a chance to look at the story before I reject you.”

He grinned, and slid the script her way before leaning back and crossing his arms. Annie grabbed it, and peaked up at him before opening up the first page. Suddenly, Armin felt afraid. The nervous knot in his stomach tightened as his heartbeat sped up. He cursed himself for the self doubt that arose within him as Annie scanned the first couple pages. _She’s gonna hate it. It’s terrible, I’m in over my head. What am I thinking…_ He gulped, and excused himself so he could grab a quick glass of water, his headache resurfacing as he got up.

Annie glanced up at him, noting his nervous mannerisms as she stared at him from behind. A small grin swept her face before she looked back down onto the page she was on.

“A horror?” She chimed up, giving Armin a bit of a jump.

“Y-Yeah,” He sat back down, the glass shaking in his hand. “I was kind of going for something like the German expressionist films.”

“Bold choice for a newcomer…” She trailed off and turned the page, one finger resting on her bottom lip. “Not a very wholesome genre, is it? I guess the blacklist is nothing to fear if you don’t have anything to lose.”

“Well...we’re never going to move forward in this industry if we don’t take some risks, see.” Armin looked down at his glass, his finger mindlessly skimming the rim. His expression turned thoughtful, and Annie found herself staring for a moment before returning her gaze to the pages of the script.

“I’m sure the moral guardians would have a few things to say about that.” Armin grew increasingly fascinated with the tone of her voice. A tone which was somewhat hard to pick up to begin with. In a way, she sounded like she was trying to get a rise out of him.

He glanced up and briefly met her eyes again before quickly looking down and turning red. Probably not the best way to make himself seem like less of a softly, he figured. “I’m sure they would. Though I think this will all blow over eventually. This is a creative industry, Ms. Annie. We can’t let things like this hold us back.”

“I don’t disagree, Mr. Arlert.” Her eyes seemed to light up just a bit when turning the page, seemingly enjoying whatever it was she was reading. Armin smiled at that, and mimicked her own position by leaning on his palm. “I guess I just have more to lose.”

Annie’s coffee was an uncomfortable lukewarm when she took another sip. Her elbow rested on the page, as to not lose her place. “Am I scaring you?”

He cocked a brow. “Are you trying to? Because I think that’s supposed to be my job in this situation.”

Annie didn’t answer, but was surprised to see him getting up from his chair and coming up behind her. A hesitant hand rested on her shoulder for a moment before pulling away. Armin leaned over and examined whatever page she was on. She turned to look at him, and could feel the heat radiating off his skin. _He’s handsome_ , she thought. “The scenario is quite good so far, actually.”

“You think so?” His face lit up, and he smiled right at her. “I...I was actually going to write it as a comedy originally.”

“I don’t see how any of this can be comedic, Mr. Arlert.”

“That was the problem…” Armin let out a nervous chuckle, his face growing a light shade of red again. “When Eren and Mikasa looked it over they said they were more disturbed than anything...I’ve, uh, I’ve never been much of a comedian.”

“Ya don’t say…Hm.” She chuckled softly to herself and turned the page. As Annie looked it over, one leg crossed over the other, revealing a deliberate bit of the upper part of her stocking. Was it even deliberate? Armin was too busy trying to ignore it than to really think it through.

He cleared his throat. He pulled his chair over so he could sit next to her, and noticed she was almost at the end. “S-See, I was thinking you’d fit well as the older sister, named Mary. Christa Lenz would be the younger sister.” Armin reached over to slide the script toward him and the two looked it over side by side. He flipped back to the beginning, searching for a certain section of the scenario. Annie once again rested her cheek on her palm, her arms crossing and her dress crumpled to reveal a generous amount of cleavage that he swore he hadn't seen before-

Cheeks tingling, he turned his eyes back to the page.

“I thought so.” Annie leaned in closer to him, presumably to get a better look of the page he was skimming. In the process, she rubbed slightly against him. Armin bit his lip and turned to look at her. Annie’s eyes were too focused on the page to notice. Her hat was on the table, and some of her hair had started to fall into her face. The more he watched, the more tempted he was to push it back behind her ear. Her expression remained close to blank. “You wouldn’t have wanted me to play any other character.”

Armin raised an eyebrow, his composure slowly coming back. “Well...I admit, I did write her specifically for you.” He scratched his cheek, and grinned. “Is there anything you’d like me to change?”

She finally looked up at him, her expression changing to one that seemed to hint towards some kind of excitement. Soon, she was back to normal. “It’s your story, not mine. I’ve just played this type of character before.”

“Oh?” Armin knew, of course. He was embarrassed to admit that he’d seen practically all of her pictures.

She nodded, and let out a sigh. Her legs uncrossed, one of the them brushing up slowly against Armin’s leg. For a moment, he went stiff and held his breath. Again, Annie didn’t seem to notice. “I’m a young blonde girl barely in her twenties. You think the studios would approve me playing a baby vamp?”

Flustered, Armin shook his head.

“Playing the ingenue can get boring, but a paycheck is a paycheck at the end of the day.”     

“I-I understand.” Armin gulped, and let out a shaky breath before smiling at her once again. “They’re never boring when you play them, though.”

She shrugged. “I do what I can with a tired archetype.”

“I think you’re absolutely brilliant.”

Annie side glanced him. “...Hm.You’re certainly a kinder fella then most of the directors I’ve worked with.”

“I mean it, though.” Armin noticed a small glint in her eyes. “You’re brilliant, even if you don’t choose to flaunt it.”

Her brow furrowed, and she once again glanced right at him with smoldering eyes. “Well, I don’t flaunt it like your friend Kirschtein does at least.”

“Heh, few do-” His breath caught again as he felt her foot brush up his leg. “Y-Yeah, I, uh…”

Annie leaned toward him, her face still resting on her palm. She put a soft hand on his forearm, and the hairs on the back of arms neck went right up. “What’s eating you, mac?”

“I-I just, you know, uhm, s-s-s-o is it a deal, or-” His face was hot, only growing hotter when he noticed how close she was.

 _Wait a second._ A nervous laugh escaped his lips as he pushed his hair out of his eyes. The tiny smirk on Annie’s face confirmed his thoughts. “M-Ms. Annie, are you trying to seduce me?”

The smirk wiped off her face, and she leaned back. “Am I? That’s certainly something to say to your leading lady.”

“N-No, it’s just, I don’t think you-” Before he could get much further, she got up from her seat and grabbed her hat.  

“I really should scoot, obviously I’ve been here too long.” Annie pulled the hem of her dress down below her knees and walked toward the door, while Armin got up and stuttered for her to stop.

Finally, he grabbed her hand. “Wait a hot second! You’re testing, me aren’t you?”

Annie stopped in her tracks and turned to him. “What would ever give you that idea, Mr. Arlert?”

Armin let go of her hand and moved closer toward her. “You said it yourself. I’m much nicer than most of the directors you’ve worked with.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” She crossed her arms, and the two were standing completely face to face. Annie’s expression remained neutral, though Armin could see something bubbling up. He hadn’t noticed how short she was till that moment. “You’re a nice guy.”

“Yeah, but isn’t there always a catch?” She may have been short, but he certainly didn’t tower over her. Armin looked down on her as the two were practically chest to chest, and a small smirk pulled at his lips. “You’ve worked with plenty of people, you know how things work. From the moment I stepped out you’ve been suspicious.”

“Have I?” One brow was raised, as was a corner of her mouth. “Honestly, if you’re just giving me the icy mitt here, I can take it.”

He shook his head. “There’s nothing to reject, Ms. Annie. I can promise you I’m no lech.” By how close Annie was getting to him, he was sure she wasn’t completely convinced. His heart was pounding. “I wouldn't judge you if you did, but I don’t think you’d ever sit on the casting couch to begin with.”

Her mouth returned to a flat line. “Who knows? A paycheck is a paycheck. I know people in this business who have done far worse.”

“You have a lot to lose, don’t you? I assume you’ve already lost something.”

For the first time, Annie didn’t have an immediate retort. Her eyes went wider, and she simply stared at him. For a moment, the silence was filled by each of their deep breaths.

“People are practically looking for scandals these days. You would never let anyone hold that kind of power over you. From what I can see.” Armin was beginning to become very conscious about the fact that now they were practically nose to nose. “I mean, I won’t pry into your personal life of course, but I can promise you that I’m not asking for anything in return. Especially something that could endanger your career. I admire you too much, anyway.”  

  Annie remained silent again. Almost alarmingly so, as her eyes drifted to the side. There was heat between them that the silence only enhanced. She was so close he would only need to move an inch for his lips to meet hers. As if that was her plan all along. Of course, as she seemed to move toward him that was evident.   

He was going to speak up, the sweat forming on his brow making it unbearable. Until he heard something he didn’t expect to in that moment. It was a laugh. Annie was laughing. It was very low, soft and melodious, even a bit sinister, but a laugh none the less. It took him by surprise, and he was taken aback.

“Mr. Arlert, you’re smart. I’ll give you that.” While her eyes were still drifted off to the side, a corner of her mouth turned up.

“O-Or you’re just not that subtle of a flirt.” Armin chuckled and cleared his throat. He was surprised to see Annie’s pale face have a pink tinge to it. When her eyes moved to meet his again, she felt something come between them. His script. She took it from his hands and backed away.

“I never exactly agreed to anything, you know.” She moved toward the door and slipped on her hat.

Armin gave her a much more sincere and collected grin as he walked her out. “We’re leaving for LA on Friday. If you agree, I’ll see you at the train station before noon, okay?”

“Hmm...” She turned to Armin at the door and put out her hand. “We’ll see. Nice meeting you Mr. Arlert.”

“Like wise, Ms. Annie.” He took her hand and shook, lingering for a moment as their eyes met one more time. With a curt nod and a nervous smile, they parted and he shut the door behind her. He could still feel the warmth of her hand as he drifted back into the bedroom and collapsed face first on his bed.

Armin let out a loud groan and Mikasa, who was sitting next to a still sleeping Eren, turned to him concerned.

“Everything okay? She was a bit more of a bearcat than expected.”

Armin grunted, and shook his head. “Everything’s jake, Mika. I just...m-my head hurts and I really need a cold shower.

* * *

The air Friday morning was cool, a good indicator of the fall season that was just rolling in. Around him, the train station was bustling with activity. Between commuters and fellow travelers, it was hard to keep up. Mikasa and Eren stood next to him in their fall coats. Eren was as grouchy as ever during early hours without coffee, and Mikasa was double checking their tickets.

A crowd of young women swarmed a few feet away from him. The reason was obvious, as Jean was traveling with them. He stood in the middle as some girls asked for autographs and some for kisses. Jean was more than willing to give either. He laughed and they swooned.

“What a peacock…” Eren grumbled, making Armin laugh. It did good to calm his nerves. Armin looked over the crowd, searching for the blonde actress he wanted so badly to show up. He glanced over at the clock. which read 11:45. It was cutting close, and he was ready to give up. His heart sank in his chest as people began to board the train. A man took their luggage, and Mikasa tapped Armin’s shoulder to move him along.

“It’s okay,” He said, giving her a reassuring grin. “Save us a seat. I’ll find our box in a jiff.” Mikasa frowned, but nodded in return. As people boarded, the crowd dispersed and he still saw no sign of Annie.

11:53. At that point, Armin knew when to give up. He didn’t want to, though. What other actress could play a role specifically written for Annie Hart? What other actress could fulfill his vision that well.

When the whistle blew, he knew he had to move. Armin sighed, and turned to board before he heard the engine of a model T behind him. No, it wasn’t a regular old car. It was a limo, and inside he saw her. The driver opened the door, and out stepped Annie with her luggage in tow. Armin could barely contain his joy as he rushed over to help her.

“Midtown traffic.” Was all she said in response to his quizzical look. She may have appeared tired, but Armin thought she was radiant. 

He beamed, and grabbed one of her suitcases. “Come on, let’s ankle.” They walked to the train practically shoulder to shoulder, and Armin was happy to finally get to talk to her while he had a clear head.    


	2. Biograph Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before air travel, there was the locomotive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sincerest apologies to anyone not from New York, or close by, who has no clue what Armin and Annie are talking about in regards to "boroughs". I'm not trying to be patronizing, I seriously worried about that when I was writing it.

“I thought the studio let you go.”

Annie froze for a moment as she pushed down the lid of her third suitcase. Her fathers gruff German accent could be heard from across their upscale apartment. Annie silently cursed herself, hoping to leave the house before he was able to wake up.

“They didn’t. I left willingly.” She called back, hauling her suitcase towards the door with the others. “This is another studio.”

Her father nodded, and grunted in response. He sat in the living room, a glass of water on the coffee table and his cane leaning against the sofa. “Are they paying you more, at least?”

  Annie shook her head, but didn’t look back at him as she grabbed her coat. “I don’t know.”

She didn’t have to look at him to see the disappointment on his face. After a short pause, she spoke up again. “I think I like the director. He’s interesting.”

Annie felt a knot in her stomach when she looked up at the clock. 11:05, and she hadn't even stepped out of her apartment. She began to gather the rest of her things, gloves and hat secured on her hands and head, ready to meet her driver out front.

Technically, it wouldn’t matter if she didn’t show up, and she knew it. Annie had never formally agreed to this. No contracts were signed yet, but...Armin was certainly interesting.

“Ann,” Her father called, and she could hear him struggle to shift around in his spot. “Help me, before you leave.”

She furrowed her brow, and looked at the clock one more time. It was cutting too close. “I can’t. Mina will be here soon, just wait for her to do it.”

“The Irish maid?” He huffed, taking a sip of his water. “I would rather the needle go in the first time, not the tenth.” Annie sighed, knowing that an argument as stupid as this would only keep her away from the train station longer.

She took off her hat and gloves and moved to the near by kitchen, opening up the cabinet and grabbing out the needle. Next to it was the small daily dosage of prescribed morphine. Annie hated the sight of it. She hated the sight of the needle, and she hated the sight of her fathers veins.

Not that it stopped her from having to do this for him whenever she was home. Any complaining was either made immediately moot in one way or another, or completely ignored. Her father already had the band tightened around his forearm, and the dosage was given in a matter of seconds.

“I really need to go now, papa.” She said as she got up and kissed his cheek. Outside she could hear the honking of her limos horn, and knew she was keeping countless people up.

Mina was at the door, and Annie hadn't even noticed her come into the apartment. “Is there anything else you need, Ms. Leonhart?” She handed her her hat and gloves with a smile and knitted brows, and Annie shook her head.

“Just take care of him. I’m sorry I had to cut in on your holiday.”

“It’s not a problem Ms. Leonhart. I can’t argue with extra pay.” Annie grabbed her bags and returned a small smile to Mina. Before she could step out the door, her father called to her one more time.

“Hey, Annie?” She turned to him, and noticed he was starting to get up. Mina immediately made sure he stayed seated. “Just remember to come home for Christmas.”

“...I will. Auf wiedersehen, papa.”

“Auf wiedersehen.”

Annie stepped out of her apartment and into the brisk morning air. Autumn in Manhattan was always unpredictable, but it seemed to be leaning more towards colder temperatures that year. Not that it would matter in four days. Southern California autumns were far from the chill of New York. She didn’t hesitate to step into her car and drive down, but the unmistakable nervous knot in her stomach refused to go away. For the life of her, she didn’t know why.

 

* * *

The train was crowded. Peaking around, Annie saw several familiar faces in the boxes of the car. Toward the back, Annie spotted Jean and Marco sitting across from each other, laughing about something she wasn’t even a little interested in finding out about. Sitting with them wasn’t an option. Neither was sitting with Reiner and Bertl, who were comfortably seated in a box toward the middle. She made eye contact with Reiner, who smiled at her and waved. Her brows furrowed, and she turned her gaze away quick.  

Even if she wanted to sit there, the other two seats were clearly occupied by a boy and girl she barely recognized. Perhaps she’d met the young flapper at a party. She didn’t often remember faces for long. Of course, one memorable face was smiling at her.    “Sit with us, Annie,” Armin opened the door to the box occupied by him and his roommates. “We have a seat open.”

“...” She stared at it for a moment, tempted to run to the unoccupied box behind them. Sitting alone would be difficult with him near by, she knew. She’d only met the guy once, and already she had the impression of someone who knew how to sweet talk into getting his way. “Alright.”

Mikasa and Armin grabbed her trunks, and placed them neatly in the cupboard next to theirs. They could feel the train move under them, and Annie almost tripped into her seat near the window.

“Watch yourself.” Armin chuckled, catching her arm and helping her settle down. He took the seat next to her, and across from them Eren napped on Mikasa’s shoulder as she read a book. The train was barely out of the city, and Annie was thankful that so far the trip was quiet, even if for only a few minutes. She leaned on her palm, and gazed out of the window at the ever changing landscape. The four day trip to Los Angeles was one she was very familiar with at that point, but it was easy to see that Armin was not.

Through the reflection of the glass, she could see him fidgeting. Armins fingers tangled together and came apart over and over, and she could feel him shifting in his seat several times. Whether it was the silence of their car, or the prospect of being so far away from home, he was nervous.

Mikasa took away the need for Annie to ask the obvious question. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” Armin met her eyes, which only just peaked out from her book. “I just didn’t get much sleep last night, and I-I’ve never been on a train for this long before.”

“Would you like me to ask them to bring you a cup of tea? Or an extra blanket maybe?”

“No Mika, I’m fine, really.” He smiled at her, but as Annie watched their exchange out of the corner of her eye, she could tell he wasn’t exactly being as sincere as his tone would suggest.

“Hm.” Mikasa’s eyebrows knit, and she looked back down at what she was reading. “Okay. If you say so, Armin.”

Armin nodded his head, and looked down at his fidgeting hands, a small frown dropped onto his lips. It didn’t suit him, Annie thought. She remembered their meeting a few days before, and how his face always seemed to have some kind of brightness to it. Even in the moments where her, intentional or unintentional, intimidations seemed to almost get the better of him.

For a moment, she pictured him as an actor, on screen with her perhaps, who could easily light up a sepia picture. She remembered a recent issue of Motion Picture magazine, and how in their review for her last film, they mentioned how Annie’s “role as the young, wide eyed, dumb dora lady-in-waiting always seemed to have an air of mystery and darkness on screen that didn’t seem to be scripted. This character stuck out simply by Ms. Hart’s natural affinity toward the mysterious and dark. How often does she genuinely, truly, show us a smile in publicity shots, I wonder?”  

The article was mailed to her by the director with a note of congratulations. For what, Annie didn’t bother to think too much about it. The article clipping was currently rotting in some California dump.

Even if she had only been in the same room as him a couple times, his atmosphere was noticeably different. Any old critic, she thought, would probably describe him on screen as a sunny, idealist, smart mouth with an affinity toward the unknown or...something. Annie decided not to think too much about that, either. For all she figured, he could turn out to be as smarmy an asshole as any.

Though that was hard to see with the smile that returned to his face when their eyes met. It was small, but it was there, and it was oddly reassuring. She felt the slight burn of a blush on her face when she thought of how odd it must of looked for her to just be staring out the corner of her eye like that.     

“The next four days are going to be awfully dull if it stays like this the whole time.” He joked, shifting into a more comfortable position.

“Well,” She began, turning towards him. “From experience, I can tell you the easiest way to get through it is sleep. Jaeger’s got the right idea.”

The two talked at a normal level, and Eren didn’t seem to be bothered at all since he wasn’t dealing with a hangover. Mikasa was either very engrossed in whatever she was reading, or consciously ignoring them both. The fact that Annie herself was hinting toward wanting to sleep rather than talk was either flying over Armins head, or being willfully ignored. Annie knew that with him, the latter was just as likely.

“You know, the longest train ride I’ve ever been on was only about two hours long, with my parents years ago.” Armin smiled at the memory, and leaned back. Almost 45 minutes in, he was finally really easing up. “I got motion sickness after about an hour. My father was mortified, and my poor mother was so worried.”

“Hmm,” Annie peaked back out the window as the scenery changed from skyscrapers to farmland in the blink of an eye. “From puking on a two hour ride, to bravely facing a four day trip to Hollywood. Your parents must be very proud, Mr. Arlert.”The sunny look in his eyes dimmed. “Y-Yeah, I’m sure.” Armin scratched the back of his neck, and averted his gaze. Annie noticed Mikasa glaring up at her for a split second, and she got the feeling that sarcasm there was horribly misplaced.

Armin spoke up before she got the chance to dwell on it. He briefly talked to her more about his experiences with trains, reassuring her that he wasn’t going to get sick this time around, especially not around her. He was a rambler, another thing she picked up on during their casting meeting. A clever, oddly intuitive, baby faced rambler. In short, he was odd.

Annie found herself responding occasionally, but for the next ten minutes it was mostly him talking to her about the studio lot he was loaned for the picture by Mr Smith. He was enthusiastic, and certainly in a better mind than a few days ago.

She didn’t mind. Unlike most, Armin had a pleasant voice to listen to. She was almost disappointed when he stopped, perhaps sensing her eagerness to sleep the rest of the day away. When the car was silent, save for the sound of the moving train, she nodded off quickly into the second day of their journey. The smell of freshly baked muffins and an argumentative Brooklyn accent were her wake up calls.

* * *

 

He was a bit embarrassed when he noticed Annie had woken up. The rest of the car was quiet again as he handed her a muffin, brows apologetically knit.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Annie,” He smiled at her, as genuinely as one could after sleeping upright. “Eren’s a naturally loud talker...even in his sleep.”

“No kidding.” She yawned and stretched her arms out, almost hitting Armin’s face in the process. “That’s okay. It’s not like I need a proper amount of sleep to appear in front of a camera.”

Annie looked around their box, and noted the deeply sleeping figures of Eren and Mikasa. “What time is it?”

“Almost 10:30am.”

“Baloney…” There was something strangely adorable that Armin found as Annie rubbed her eyes and yawned once more. “It’s too early.”

“Too early?” Armin chuckled and took a bite of his muffin. “I’m usually up at least two hours before.”

“Hm. You must be insane, then.”

“I guess so, heh.” Armin had a hard time pulling his eyes away. Annie leaned against the window, her eyes scanning the ever changing scenery around them, and soon enough the box was silent again.

It didn’t sit well with him. In front of him was his muse, the reason he was on that train to begin with, and he was fairly determined to have a conversation with her. One that wasn’t under the influence of a hangover and nerves. Something told him he was talking more with the actress than the person back then, any way. The air felt heavy, and it made him miles more uncomfortable then he’d liked. He heard Annie swallow, and she shifted in her seat. She looked stiff.

“Sh-shut it, ya...lousy bimbo…” Eren muttered in his sleep, curling up to and heavily resting Mikasa. They almost looked like children. He chuckled at the sight, as it brought him back to familiar ones from their time growing up together. The two had odd sleeping habits, that was for sure. Talking with her in there would surely wake them up with terrible moods. And that was when the opportunity became clear.

Annie could hear him bustling behind her. She turned to him with a raised brow, and he motioned for her to get up. Or, at least she assumed, as a strong ray of sunlight poured into the box and momentarily blinded her. When she finally regained her sight, he held one of her suitcases in front of her.

“We can come back for the others later.” He said, in a tone of voice that she found strangely confident. Although with the bright yet nervous smile on his face, it was clear he was simply excited. “I don’t want to wake them, and sometimes I like to give them space. I figure we’d all get sick of having so little room to breath for four days.”

“Is that so?” She inquired as she got to her feet. She hadn't noticed how cramped the box was till she almost tripped over Eren’s feet. Armin’s arm, luckily, was there to latch on to.

“There’s an empty box behind us. I’m sure they won’t mind being alone for a little while.” Armin smiled at his sleeping, cuddling friends, before turning his gaze back to Annie and leading her out. “Between you and me, I think they’re going to be insured soon.”

“Well good for them.” Annie’s tone stayed level at its oddly melodious monotone that Armin loved. He opened the door to the box and quickly placed their belongings over head. Annie took her seat, and the moment he went to sit next to her he hesitated.

 _No,_ he thought. _Slow down. Don’t make her uncomfortable._

It felt refreshing to be alone with her again. Especially with a clear head. Annie’s gaze turned again to the window, as if she was specifically trying to ignore him. Well, he couldn’t blame her. Here he was trying to prove himself to her, including not looking like the lech she somehow expected, and he was coming up with lame excuses to get her alone. Suddenly he felt very aware of the fact that he hadn’t gotten to brush his teeth that morning. He rushed to sit across from her.  

“...Queens?” He broke the silence, and was greeted with the confusion he expected.

“What?”

“Queens. That’s where you grew up? S-Sorry, I’ve just been trying to place your accent since I met you…” His cheeks were slowly turning red. “A-And my best guess is Queens.”

She stared at him for a moment, silent, face straight. Armin pulled at his collar, immediately thinking he said something wrong. If he could read her face it would be easier to deal with. His fears were alleviated when she cracked a small grin and stifled a chuckle.

“You’re wrong. Not completely. But you’re wrong.” Her gaze returned to the window. He wondered if he could get Annie to make the same kind of eye contact she made when they were negotiating, or if that was simply a part of her ruse to get to him. Still, he was happy to simply produce a grin, and his face lit up again.

“Well, I can’t always be right.” He leaned forward, supporting himself on his elbows. “Can I take another guess?”

“I don’t see why that’s necessary.” Annie’s sharp blue eyes flickered to him. “You’re Brooklyn, that’s more than obvious.”

“My accents not that strong!” He protested with a laugh.

“Yours might not be, but your friends make it a bit more obvious.”

He nodded his head and shrugged. She certainly wasn’t wrong about that. “So? Am I allowed to know the real answer, or should I keep guessing? There are a limited number of boroughs, after all.”

“....” Armin leaned forward in anticipation. For a few seconds all he got was a side glance and a view of Annie biting a nail. “I’ve never been one to beat my gums, Mr. Arlert.”

“Oh...because you find it boring, or because you’re terrible at it?” Armin’s innocent tone of voice didn’t stop him from feeling almost instantly bad for the wording. “I-I’m sorry, that sounded rude, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just...”

Annie cocked an eyebrow, and turned more toward him. “I think I’ve failed as an actress if I come off as socially inept in any way.”

“W-Well,” Armin’s face was pink, and he tried to mask his nervous chuckle. “You don’t come off that way at all. But it doesn’t seem like I’ve gotten to see much of the real you, to begin with.”    

“Oh?” Annie’s interest seemed to peak, but if Armin figured anything out, with her it would always be a little hard to tell.

“You have to come off as more confident in order to capture interest, after all.” He eased up a bit, but still nervously fidgeted with his fingers.

“That is true. So do I come off as confident to you?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t exactly mean you are. I say I’m a director, but my filmography says otherwise. You see?”

“Yeah...Mr. Arlert, has anyone ever told you you talk too much?” Her mouth was hidden under her hand, but Armin could swear he saw a small but prominent smirk.   

“...All the time.” His face was on par with a tomato. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. We’ve figured out that maybe I can’t do idle chatter, but you can. It’s a good trade off.”

Armin perked up once again and smiled at her. “I guess so.”

“...Manhattan, by the way. But not the ritzy part. Lower east side. Orchard street.” As she spoke, her gaze drifted away from him again. Her tone was low and face pink, and Armin was sure she wasn’t comfortable. Still, Armin was happy she was talking about herself, and he wouldn’t dare end the conversation there.

“Orchard street?” His eyebrows knit. “That’s-”

“Not what you expected from an actress?”

“It’s certainly a more humble beginning than most would expect, Ms. Annie.” He didn’t want to pry, but the more she revealed, the more he wanted to know. The lower East side probably meant one thing. “How did an immigrant girl from the slums become a hollywood darling at such a young age?”

He sincerely hoped she wasn’t finished. Especially since it was becoming even more obvious by her stiff body language that she was out of her comfort zone. “Vaudeville. You must not have been big into the entertainment industry if you’ve never heard of Baby Annie.”

“My parents were a little too poor to afford going to performances back then.” For a moment, Armin fondly remembered the three of them going to a flicker when he was ten. They loved how the action could be translated so well and so perfectly through movement and music alone. It didn’t matter that they couldn’t speak English. “‘Baby Annie’ sounds a bit…”

“Ridiculous, I know.” She let out a sigh, and loosened her posture just enough to let Armin know that he wasn’t doing anything wrong by asking these types of questions. “I was a child, so it’s not like I could pick my own stage name. They told me to go out on stage and dance, and that’s exactly what I did. ‘Sing this song, Annie,’ and I would go out and do exactly that. People would clap, I got paid. It’s the bees knees to any little girl.”

“They don’t mention that much in the articles about you, you know.” He recalled as he thought back on them all. He then flushed at the fact that he had read so much on her.

There was a prominent frown on her face. “It’s not something I want to be associated with. The only thing I have in common with that little girl is a first name.”

“So ‘Hart’ is a stage name. I figured!” Armin wiggled a bit in his seat, and repositioned himself to get more comfortable.

“...You’re going to ask what my actual last name is now, aren’t you?”  

Armin shamelessly nodded.

“...It’s Leonhardt. Don’t go spreading that around.” Her face was growing pink again, and Armin’s eyes lit up. Something told him that this wasn’t information that she freely gave away, and that made him feel all the more grateful that she was willing to give it to him. Why, he didn’t exactly know, but it did make him feel a bit more confident.

“Leonhardt...Oh! You’re German?” Through his only small knowledge of the German language, he knew that that name had a meaning to it. Leonhardt. Lionheart. A fitting name if he ever saw one.

She confirmed this, and let out a sigh. “‘Hart’ was easier to fit on billings. The studio head told me it was more charming, and open for a lot of cutesy headlines. Whatever.”

“And it was less German.” Armin observed, unintentionally thinking outloud.

“...Yeah.” Her tone was low again, but she didn’t seem offended, which he was grateful for. “1918 wasn’t a fun year for anyone, Mr. Arlert. If you were here, and you were German, you were automatically suspicious. My fathers accent earned him a lot of odd looks.” Annie’s mind seemed to drift for a moment, but Armin knew that this wasn’t something to pry into. “And then of course you were either dying in the trenches, dying of Spanish flu, or a tragic combination of both.”

Armin tensed briefly at the mention of the flu. No, 1918 was certainly a year he didn’t like remembering for that very reason. “I-I barely survived that myself.” His gaze turned down, and his face dimmed again. “M-My parents weren’t exactly as lucky…” He practically whispered this, and for a moment Annie looked at him with genuine shock on her face.

Of course, it didn’t last long before her usual stoic expression returned. To Armin's surprise, however, her expression turned remorseful. The comment she made about his parents before surely came to mind. Annie remained silent, and a heavy atmosphere started weigh in on them as the silence went on.

Armin broke it himself. “But...I’ve made it this far on my own. I’m going to Hollywood, about to make my first feature length film, a-and I got you to star in it. I think they would be proud of me.”

Annie swallowed, and gave him the first genuine, meaningful smile he had seen from her. “I’m sure.”

He smiled wide back at her, and couldn’t contain his thoughts. “You have such a beautiful smile.”

She went red instantly, but seemed to compose herself just as fast. He was certain it wasn’t the first time someone had said that to her, anyway. “...Thank you.”

Armin was pleasantly surprised at how well it was all going. Maybe it wasn’t an enormous amount, but getting her to open up at least a little was a good start. He must have made some kind of an impact, because she was open to conversation for the rest of the day.

Nothing could compare to the feeling he got in the morning when he woke up to her sleeping on his shoulder, script in her lap, and open to one of his favorite scenes.

He had forgotten he switched to her side of the car. Towards the end of the day, when dinner was being served, she asked if he made any rewrites, and Armin was all too willing to show it to her again. His script, he thought, was genuinely good. On par with any horror that was coming out in recent years.   

Annie skimmed it again when he sat down next to her and handed it over. Since their last meeting, his rewrites had been minimal.

“Any rewrites to your character I want you to suggest.” He said, as Annie looked up at him with genuine confusion on her face.

“But...why, exactly? It’s your story, not mine.” She looked back down to the pages, and flipped closer to the end. Armin shrugged, and looked over her shoulder.

“I just think you have the right to play who you want this time. This is an experience that I want to be good to you. If you don’t want to play another Ingenue, I think that’s understandable.” Armin smiled as he noticed Annie stop on a particular page.

Annie’s eyebrows furrowed as she examined the page. “I..I appreciate that.”

Armin simply smiled, and watched her read the scenario.

“I’m trying to imagine what kind of body language and expression I should use here…” She tapped on the page, and Armin took it from her briefly.

“Well,” Armin looked over his own writing, and imagined the scene in his head. The intertitles were up to him, but it was up to the actors to really set the mood. “You just found out your sister, played by Christa, has been dead since the end of the first act. Not just that, but she was murdered by the very young lord whose house you’re staying in, Jean. I’d say... your expression is all over the place.”

He set it down on her lap, and looked right into her eyes. Armin put his finger in front of her face, and Annie, familiar with a directors ways, knew to follow it.

First, he moved to the left, and Annie's face followed. “Confusion. You’re sister has been by your side the whole time. She can’t be dead, can she? Have you been seeing things?” Next, he moved to the right. “Shock. You look to where she was standing, and suddenly she’s not there anymore. Where did she go? Was she even there to begin with?”

Annie was completely in character. Almost on cue, her eyes were teary, and Armin was beyond impressed. “You think you’ve gone mad. You’re ready to tear your hair out.” Annie’s fingers threaded and grabbed at her, previously perfectly done, blonde hair as Armin moved her face to face his. “And the man who is the cause of this all is not just in the house, but you know he’s standing right outside the room.” One hand stayed on her hair as another covered her mouth, the shock and despair present in her wide and teary eyes. “...And that’s that! Ms. Annie, that was absolutely perfect. You’ll have no issue with this at all.”

On cue, Annie was back to herself. She wiped her eyes, and glared a bit at her thumb when she noticed she had rubbed off some make up. “You can call me Annie, you know. ‘Ms.Annie’ is far too formal.”

“R-Really?” He perked up with excitement, and smiled wide. “...Annie. Okay, I can do that. Then you call me Armin. I’m only 20, and Mr. Arlert just makes me sound so old.”

“Absolutely not.” She looked at him with a surprisingly playful look. “That’s way too informal.”

“...What?” He chuckled, and scratched his face as he thought on all of this.

“It’s okay for you to be informal with me, Mr. Arlert. You’re my director. You can call me whatever you want. You could call me floozy and it would be acceptable.” She seemed amused at his bewildered expression, but he was getting it quickly.

“Hmmm…” He looked off in thought for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “Alright. And if you simply called me Armin, people would start to think we were living in medieval splendor. Somehow, that doesn’t seem likely.”

“Maybe not, but it would be a one way ticket to the blacklist for at least one of us. And that one of us would probably be me.”

“Fair enough…” His expression became softer, and he picked the script up from her lap again. “Annie, thank you for trusting me enough to be in my picture.”

“...No problem.” Annie bit her lip, and diverted her eyes to the page. Armin’s, however, were still on her. She didn’t come up with an excuse this time, and he liked that.

* * *

Armin was grateful that by the end of their journey, Annie and him were still sitting alone. There wasn’t much left to discuss as they started to pull into the station, but everything they had talked about over the past two days, both personal and work related, stuck with him. If he was a fan of her before, it was nothing compared to now. Annie finished fixing up her hair, and stood up to grab one of her bags.

“I’ll help!” He insisted, as he carried two down for her before going for his own. She thanked him, and waited by the door until he was also ready. The whistle blew loud and clear as the train came to a stop, and the doors began to open to the outside.

“Now, Mr. Arlert, I hope you’re not planning on staying in a hotel this whole time." it was still a few minutes till their car was to be let out, and Annie leaned against the door frame as she spoke with him.

“Oh, no! Jean has extra rooms in his mansion.”

“Of course he does.” Annie let out a sigh, which Armin couldn’t tell the purpose of. Speak of the devil himself, Jean stood across from him vertically and waved, mouthing at him to meet him outside. Armin nodded, and waved back.

“Before we get off and part, our first meeting will be tomorrow night. And, uh…” He slipped into his pocket and found a piece of paper with Jean’s address on it, now useless to him. “You can stop by if you want. I mean, I-I did say you can contribute whatever you want to your character.”

Annie hesitated for a moment before taking the paper and slipping it into her purse. Finally, it was about time for their car to be let out. Before he could go however, Annie leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

His face heated up so fast, he was practically choking.

“Thank you for making this trip go a little faster.” Annie, red in the face herself, looked him up and down before grabbing her bags and exiting the box. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Annie…” Armin quickly grabbed his bags and followed after her, but the crowd was quicker in cutting them off. _Damn._

He was brought back to reality when he felt a hand clap onto his shoulder. Armin almost jumped right out of his pants. “Well aren’t we a sheik?”

Eren greeted him with a smile, and Mikasa gave him a hug. “H-hey guys, how was the ride?”

“Oddly relaxing.” Mikasa answered, picking up one of his bags. “I assume it was equally as enjoyable for you?” She smiled at him, and started to bring out a handkerchief. “You have a bit of lipstick on your cheek.”

“Huh?” Armin’s voice cracked, and his hand slapped right on the spot where she kissed him. “N-No, it wasn’t anything like- I mean, I just-”

“Relax, relax, don’t cast a kitten.” Eren put an arm around his shoulder, and the three walked to where they knew Jean would be.

Predictably, he was surrounded by admirers. Sure, Marco, Reiner, and Bertl had a sizable crowd around them as well, but it was nothing compared to the shrieking mass trying to engulf Jean. He laughed, and took it all in as he shook hands, kissed a few cheeks, and signed a few magazines. He was also more than willing to pose for the newspapers as they brought out their cameras. Armin couldn’t deny that Eren was right in saying that Jean was a total peacock.  

The crowd suddenly parted, and out walked the angelic figure of a young, popular blonde actress whom Armin recognized instantly. Christa Lenz, his second leading lady. The three moved toward them, and Christa greeted them with a sweet smile. However, she quickly turned to Jean, who grabbed her hand and kissed it before outright kissing her. The women in the crowd didn’t seem too happy, but the photographers ate up the site. Towering behind Christa was a tall dark woman with an intimidating look that could rival Annie’s. The suit she wore fit her nicely, and she looked professional despite everything.

Christa, Jean, and the woman walked toward the trio to meet them away from the crowd.

“Welcome.” Christa said with a smile, and took Armins hand. “I’m looking forward to working for you, Mr. Arlert.”

Her smile was infectious, and Armin was momentarily slack jawed in her presence. “I-It’ll be a great experience. I hope you’re ready to work tomorrow.”

Christa wasn’t able to get another word in before she was interrupted by the other woman. “Wait just a hot minute. This is Mr. Arlert? This scrawny palooka is our boss?”

“Ymir!” Chista hit her arm, and the woman named Ymir simply laughed it off. “I’m sorry, she’s a bit-”

“Ymir, your scenario writer/costumer.” Ymir took Armins hand, giving it a shake that he felt even after she let go. “So we’ll probably be seeing plenty of each other.”

“Both?” Armin cocked an eyebrow, and Ymir simply smirked. “Those are completely different jobs, and I already have a scenario-”

“Yeah, the studio doesn’t want to spend that much on you. You know, since you’re new meat and all. For all they know, you could turn out to be box office poison.” Christa hit her arm again, and Ymir retaliated by using Christa’s head as an armrest. “Don’t mind Christa here, she’s been trying to get me to shut up since we met at a sewing circle.”

Armin was no stranger to how studios worked, so as he thought to himself, he knew he shouldn’t be surprised that they weren’t pulling out all the stops for him. Well, here was most of his main cast and part of his crew. He still needed to meet his photography director, and he sincerely hoped the meeting wouldn’t be quite as loud as this one.

Ymir and Christa said their goodbyes moments later, and Jean led the three of them toward his limo to bring them to his home. Armin searched the dispersing crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of Annie again, his mind now racing. Jean talked to them all the way to the parking lot, but all he could think of was her, and what they talked about, and her soft lips against his cheek.

He was disappointed to see she must have left a while ago. Armin was already anxious to see her again tomorrow, and almost everyday for the next few months.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY I'M BACK and ready to put aside more time for writing! There have been so many distractions in my life, but now the holidays are over, a new semester is upon us, and I'm more pumped than ever! Again, if you see any glaring historical inaccuracies, don't be afraid to yell at me about it. Questions, comments, reviews, and all that jazz, are welcomed and encouraged!  
> Next chapter, we're gonna start to make a movie. a SILENT MOVIE. 
> 
> Historical and Slang notes:  
> >Well first off, New York City is made up of five Boroughs; Manhattan (the one people usually think of when they think of NYC), Staten Island (The one everyone forgets), The Bronx, Brooklyn, and Queens.   
> >"Beat my/your/ones gums" Idle chatter  
> >"Bimbo", at the time, meant a big tough guy. I have no clue how that changed.  
> >The lower east side of Manhattan is generally where a lot of early 20th century immigrants right off the boat settled. It wasn't the best place to be, especially in contrast to Park Ave and Madison Ave. That's where a lot of those tiny tenement houses were, and personally is my favorite part of the city to explore. China Town and Little Italy are both near by.  
> >"Biograph Girl" Well apart from being a short lived West End musical was also the nickname given to actresses Mary Pickford and Florence Lawrence in the days when actors in film remained anonymous (due in part to studios not wanting them to gain celebrity status.)   
> >"Insured" meant engaged   
> >I think we all know what the bees knees means.  
> >"Sheik" A man with sex appeal. "Sheba" would be the female equivalent.   
> >"cast a kitten" throwing a fit. Yeah this ones a little odd to me.  
> >A "sewing circle" was like a group of actors at the time who had to conceal their sexuality. Yeah, Ymir isn't subtle.   
> >Small note on the part about her German last name; Did you know, during World War I, sauerkraut was renamed "Liberty Cabbage" due to concerns that the American public wouldn't buy a product with a German name? Seriously. Google it.


	3. The Man With The Megaphone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Action!

“Her presence is electrifying. It’s dark, foreboding. She’s a fire that could flare up at any moment. Maybe that’s why there are so few interviews from such a shining star as Annie Hart. No journalist would dare risk setting off the woman behind many an ingenue!” And Armin wouldn’t dare reveal the issue of Photoplay he read under the breakfast table as his friends talked on and on. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Eren almost knock over his orange juice while talking with his hands.

“This reporter thinks it’s a testament to her acting skills, that she’s able to show us so much on screen, yet so little in person. She’s sweet, but she sizzles! What a funny ol’ bird America’s angel is.” Armin furrowed his brow, and almost rolled his eyes. It wasn’t that hard, he thought, to simply sum up the statements in the article as, “Yeah, she’s a good actress and all, but her atmosphere is really off putting and we don’t like to talk to her.” A bit rude, but at least they were somewhat tactful.

He flipped the page, and was greeted with an absolutely stunning publicity shot of her in a film from last year. She was at a quarter view, staring off at whatever lead male had captured her characters heart. The light hit her in such a way that made her glow, her golden curls really shining through the black and white tones. On her smooth face was a smile, small but sincere. And it was obviously forced, at least in his eyes. It was an actresses smile, one to keep the cameras satisfied. Not the playful one he was lucky enough to produce several times.

The thought of her smile brought one to his own face. Armin pushed his hair out of his face, and turned the page again.

“There are rumors floating around of a contract dispute between Ms. Annie and Paramount. With many Hollywood players under heavy scrutiny and similar circumstances for so called ‘immoral public displays’, one has to wonder what Ms. Hart did to earn the ire of her bosses. On the bright side, she’s a finalist for the honor of fan favorite screen beauty of the month!”         

“I can’t believe you managed to get Ms. Annie alone. And outside of business to boot!”

Armin’s face flushed, but he didn’t take his eyes away from the articles in front of him. Not even to take a sip of orange juice or a bite of toast. He did, however, acknowledge Marco’s statement with a curt, nervous grin.

“Told you he was a sheik.” Eren replied, a proud look on his face as he poured coffee for himself and Armin. For a brief moment, Armin looked up from what he was doing to cock an eyebrow at Eren, who simply laughed.

Jean looked close to falling asleep at the breakfast table. “You guys are loud in the morning.” He yawned, and ran his fingers through his hair before getting a jump. Connie clapped a hand on his shoulder, and Jean once again regretted the decision to let all these people stay in his house.

“Someone didn’t get any sleep last night!” He joked, pulling up the seat between Jean and Marco. Jean simply groaned, and guzzled down his cup of coffee that was still steaming hot.

“I certainly didn’t sleep. Too much quiet. I miss New York…” Eren complained to himself.

“Dry up, Springer. So...” Jean leaned forward, leering a bit at Armin, who was trying his damned best to ignore his nosy friends. “What did you and Mizz. Hart talk about?”

Armin sighed, and reluctantly turned his attention to everyone else. “W-We just talked about...ourselves, I guess. A-And there was some business talk. Is that really so shocking?”

He knew the answer to that one already.

“You really think she gives everyone the time of day?” Jean chuckled and looked over at Marco, who couldn’t help but return the glance. Armin knew they both had more experience working with her, but it bothered him none the less. “I always got the impression that she was a bit of a high hat, but hey, you wanted to meet her.”

“A high hat?” Armin shook his head, and tried to change focus back to his magazine. “No, I don’t think she’s a high hat at all.”

“Hm.” Jean tapped on the table, a smirk growing across his face. “You know I can still see a little lipstick on your cheek.” Armin, once again growing red, ignored him.

Jean decided not to push any further, though Armin figured it was because he was far too tired to put in the effort. He just hoped he would be awake enough for their first pre-production meeting later.   

Marco seemed to be the only other one interested in work at the moment. “What are you looking at any way, Armin?”

“Set designs!” He lied, more than pleased with the change of subject. “They were mailed to me back in New York, but I never got the chance to look at them…” Of course, that wasn’t a complete fib. Under the magazine was a folder filled with various papers and drawings.

He handed them over to Marco, who leaned towards Jean and Connie so they could all get a look at the drawings and plans. The designs were divided into four pages, with the first one titled “Outside House.” Images of a Victorian style bed and breakfast in the middle of a heavily wooded area filled the page, with notes on the side written by the artist. On the second page were several rooms, with various scene numbers listed next to each. A kitchen, three bedrooms, a living room, a library, and a cellar. A typical mystery setting, if nothing else. The third was simply various drawings of wooded areas, which Armin had big plans for. Page four was nothing but lighting ideas.

“I want to do some scenes in technicolor,” Armin broke in, his tone significantly more enthusiastic. “but Mr. Smith told me it might be too expensive.”

Marco handed it back to him, and Armin slipped the papers back into the manila folder. When Armin finally went in to eat the rest of his breakfast, he found the food was cold and frowned.

“That’s what happens when you prioritize work over eating.” He smiled at the sound of Mikasa’s voice behind him, and bid her a good morning. Her hair was wet and pinned, clearly a finger wave in the making. She walked over to where Eren was and hugged his neck, giving him a kiss on the cheek. He grinned at her, despite a mouth full of toast.

Before Eren got the chance to properly acknowledge and speak to her, Jean turned around and turned up the kitchen radio, tuning out Eren’s voice. The pleasant jazz tune made Eren’s scowl even more jarring. It did match the smirk on Jean’s face, though.  

What happened next gave Armin a feeling of overwhelming nostalgia. It was a typical sight from their school days. Far before any of them became famous. Jean and Eren bickered over nothing in particular, Marco tried to keep the peace, and Mikasa tried to pretend, just for a moment, that she didn’t associate with either of them. Armin smiled to himself and guzzled down the rest of his breakfast the best he could.

By the time he was finished and looked at the clock, there was still too much time till the meeting. At least that’s what it felt like. The kitchen table was slowly emptying as Marco and Connie left to take care of their own business at another studio, and Mikasa went back upstairs to finish washing herself up. That left Jean, Armin, and Eren to clean the leftover mess.

“Jesus, give me the fucking dishes, you’ll break them.” Eren snapped, grabbing a stack out of Jean’s shaky hands. He easily relented, content to sit back for a little while as Armin and Eren did the work this time around.

Armin took care of the drying, and was briefly lost in his own thoughts.

“You’re just huffy because you still haven’t proposed to her, ya wuss.” Jean chuckled, and dodged a rag being thrown at him.

“That’s none of your beeswax!”

“At this point, it’s everyone’s business but hers.”

Armin sighed, and stared out of the kitchen window. Behind him he could still hear their bickering, but his mind was elsewhere. His mind was on his script upstairs, the crew he had yet to meet, and the actress he wished he had more time with. It wasn’t a common opportunity, he figured, to get her alone.

Jean may have pegged her as a snob, but as Armin thought about it, he settled on simply reserved. Fiercely private, maybe even a little shy. In an industry where the whole world is constantly looking to you and copying, criticising, and commenting on your entire being, the fact that she’d remained so illusive was something he couldn’t help but admire. Part of Armin felt an odd sense of privilege to have learned something about her that possibly no one else knew.

And he wanted so badly to learn more.

“-Don’t you agree, Armin?” Eren shook him out of his thoughts, almost causing Armin to drop the plate he was drying.

“H-Huh? Agree with what?”

Jean grinned, and raised and eyebrow. “I think his mind was on blondes, Jaeger.”

Armin’s face burned, and he looked back down. Eren seemed to ignore that last exchange.

“I said, don’t you agree? A proposal needs proper planning! You can’t just insure a dame on the spot! You need at least some razzle dazzle added to it!”

“Y-Yeah,” Armin stammered. “That would be ridiculous.”

He didn’t look behind him, but Armin knew Eren was most likely giving Jean a self satisfied grin, and Jean was rolling his eyes like it didn’t even matter to him in the first place.

By the time Mikasa came back down with his script in hand, and Jean’s royce was parked out in front for them to leave, Armin’s nerves had set in and he was completely antsy. Although that part might have had something to do with Jean’s rather frantic driving. The roads to the studio were bumpy and narrow, but gave Armin a nice view of the southern California landscape. The warm noon time sun made everything around him glow, and added a pleasant atmosphere, despite the loud talking and continued bickering between his friends in the car. Armin payed little attention to the conversation.       

His stomach was completely knotted when they reached the gate to Maria Rose Studios. It was bigger than he imagined, but maybe not quite as big as Paramount or Fox. Studio lots lined several blocks, and Armin kept his eye out for his designated lot, #104, as they drove down the street.

For a silent film studio, it was incredibly loud and lively. Armin could hear layer upon layer of conversation going on over the sound of saws against wood, hammers against nails, and cars revving their engines. Actors voice’s could be heard as they improvised and pantomimed, all while the clicking of rolling camera’s accompanied them like music. Jean had told him about the bustling atmosphere of your average Hollywood studio, but it certainly didn’t properly prepare him for the real thing. It made him feel oddly small.

Already, he was looking forward to shooting on location instead of there.

Directors shouted bombastically through megaphones, and right away Armin understood what Annie meant when she said he didn’t look much like a director himself. There seemed to be a general consensus on uniform. Each director he spotted wore similar army pants and britches, flat hats or stetsons. Their presence was nothing short of imposing. All he had on was his normal trousers, button up, and suspenders, topped off with a typical summertime Skimmer straw hat.   

He wondered how they weren’t all dying of heatstroke in that 80 degree weather. Whatever the case, he certainly felt a bit self conscious. For all everyone knew, Armin was just another assistant.

“And to your left, Mr. Arlert,” Said Jean, tapping him on the shoulder. Armin had almost completely spaced out. “You’ll see the place you’re going to be sick of seeing very soon.”

Several cars and trucks were parked outside studio 104. It was too easy to tell which cars were owned by actors, directors, and producers, compared to the rest of the crew. Jean himself joined them as he parked his rolls royce next to another. Outside the door was the familiar intimidating mug of Ymir, with what Armin assumed was a cigarette between her fingers.

She waved at him, but barely returned his smile as she stepped aside for him to enter.

All the pep talks in the world couldn’t prepare Armin for what he felt stepping into the studio, onto the set for his own feature length film. It was even louder than it had been outside. Several sets for different pictures were positioned back to back. Carpenters and painters worked tirelessly on their projects, as makeup artists and costumers did up the actors and actresses who weren’t currently being shouted at by directors.

There was a certain suffocating atmosphere to it. So much so, that he had to remind himself to breath at least twice as he looked around. He felt oddly at home in all of that mess and chaos.

“This place is a fucking dump.” An unfamiliar voice barked behind them. Armin turned to see a rather small and tired looking man. His flat cap was backwards, and a pipe was in one hand as a rather large film camera was being held up in the other. “Don’t it just make your head pound?”

“Uh,” Armin found his face to be familiar, but he couldn’t recall from where. “I-It is a bit much, I guess.”

“‘I guess,’ huh? Don’t be such a milquetoast, kid. If the noise is obnoxious, just say so. Jeez...” The man sighed, and pushed through the group, his tripod hitting Eren’s leg in the process. Armin looked to Jean, who shrugged, clearly not knowing who that was. He settled in front of a fully furnished and painted living room set. Armin recognized it from his own set plans.

“S-Sir!” Armin called out, trailing behind him. “You don’t by any chance know if Mr. Smith is here yet? We’re supposed to meet soon.”

The man didn’t even look up as he answered, instead focusing on setting up his camera and several chairs. His pipe was sure to burn out. “I haven’t the foggiest clue, kid. Knowing Erwin, he’ll show up when he wants, not when you want.”

“I see…,” Armin was suddenly far more nervous than he was only moments ago. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mr…”

“Ackerman.” Again, he didn’t look up to answer. He put down several cans of film, and changed out the ones already in the camera. “Levi Ackerman. Call me Levi. Unless we’re not working together. In which case don’t call me at all.”

“You’re Levi Ackerman?” Eren’s voice broke in, his smile bright and wide. “The photographer and cinematographer?!”

“...That’s why I have a camera with me. Not just to look nice. Jesus, kid, what audience are you talking to...” Levi sounded slightly irritated, but Eren wasn’t the least bit put off.

“I’m a big fan of your work! You see, I-I’ve wanted to get into photography, sir-” For safe measure, Armin pushed him back a bit and told him to hold off on the hero worship.

“Well, uh, if you see him, tell him Armin Arlert’s here.”

“Wait,” Finally, Levi turned around and looked him in the eye. “Mr. Arlert’s here?”

Armin smiled, and felt even more sheepish than before. “Well, actually, yes.”

“Where is he?” Levi looked at the faces of everyone but Armin himself. “It’s not doll face over there, is it? ‘Cause it’s not Kirschtein, and it’s not this kid.”

Mikasa glared at him, her fists balling.

“...I’m Mr. Arlert, sir.” Armin stood up straight, shoulders back and chest out. Anything to make him look more like what Levi must have expected. “I think you’re filming my movie.”

Levi cocked an eyebrow. “They certainly don’t make directors like they used to.”

He made no attempts to lower his voice as he said this, and Armin went red. Well if he learned anything from Annie and Ymir, this reaction was to be expected. He comforted himself by thinking of his exceptionally young age.

Speaking of Ms. Leonhart, Armin peaked around the area searching for that particular mop of blonde. Almost immediately he was greeted by another.

Christa’s warm smile brought instant relief. She alleviated the nervous, heavy atmosphere that started to set in as she sat in a chair next to Levi’s camera. The group gravitated toward her, and Ymir appeared as if on instinct.

Jean kissed Christa’s cheek as a greeting and Armin couldn’t help but note how uncomfortable they both looked.

Christa cleared her throat, straightening herself up. “Set’s are a bit chaotic, aren’t they?”

Armin nodded, and took the scenario and set plans out of his folder. “You guys should look these over. Ymir, do you have any costume designs you’d like to show me?”

“When the producer gets here, maybe.” She took everything from his hand, and the group crowded around. Mikasa, who was the only one there that didn’t technically have a role in all of this, looked on only slightly interested. Her focus changed to Armin, and she gave him a reassuring smile. Armin hadn't even noticed how stiff and uneasy he looked.

Toward the right corner of the set, just off the wooden platform it rested on, he spotted a welcome face and suddenly felt warm. Annie, whom he hadn't even noticed enter the studio, stood away from the group. She had a book in hand, and a neutral look to her face as it was glued to whatever page she was on. Of course she would be alone, he figured. From what he got from Jean and Marco, this was typical on-set behavior for Annie. Slowly, he crept next to her.

“ _This Side of Paradise_?” He spoke, but didn’t give her the jump he expected. The surprise was more evident in the sudden movement of her eyes. “That’s a good one. I actually have a signed copy.”

“You know, Mr. Arlert,” Her eyes reverted back to the page, but she wasn’t reading a thing. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been trying to flirt with me.”

Armin grinned. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been trying to flirt back.”

“I’m glad you’re admitting your intentions.” She pushed her hair behind her ear, revealing to Armin a small but prominent blush.

“Well, I didn’t exactly admit to anything, Annie. But you’re more than welcome to continue with your own flirting.” At this, she turned to him, and tried to hide the grin creeping up on her face. Armin could feel an odd tickle in the pit of his stomach at the sight of her eyes.

She closed her book and took a deep breath. Armin couldn’t help but watch the rise and fall of her chest. Her cooler atmosphere became more noticeable in a crowded area, especially with how far away she was standing from everyone else. “Don’t you have work to do, sir? Like maybe screaming into a megaphone?”

“I can’t really do much right now until the producer gets here.” He sighed, and sheepishly looked down. What a great start, he thought with a small edge of bitterness. “it’s a shame, but I guess it gives me more time to think…”

“So I got out of bed and did my makeup for nothing?” She said in a rather matter-of-fact manner. Armin almost started to feel bad. He looked over to the other group, who seemed to be conversing like nothing was supposed to even happen that day. He stuck his hand in his pocket, and took out his watch.

Noon. Mr. Smith was still no where to be found. His actors were chatting, his editor was trying to get an autograph from his presumed cinematographer, and his leading lady looked like she couldn’t care less about any of it. For the moment, he couldn’t blame her.

He spoke up finally, just when Annie was beginning to open her book. “Would you like to go to lunch with me?”

She pushed her hair behind her ear, and didn’t look up at him when she answered. “...Okay.”

“Okay?” Armin perked up, and put his arm out for her to link to. He honestly didn’t expect it to be that easy. He even prepared a retort for her inevitable excuse. Instead, Annie seemed to gladly take his arm and sneak toward the door.

She rushed them along. “What else is there to do? I’m hungry and bored.” Annie led him to the back of the studio lot, where her blue royce was parked alone on the grass. It was exactly the type of car he expected a leading lady to have. He also couldn’t help but notice how much she liked the color blue. She wore a blue, mid-calf length dress that day, the day they met, and a blue coat at the train station. Always in blue. It suited her, he thought.

“Where are we even going?” He questioned as he stepped into the passenger side. Annie was busy reaching onto the floor, grabbing a scarf and a pair of sunglasses. The wind blew by, giving Armin a view of her legs a bit past her knee. He couldn’t help but stare for just a moment, his face growing red before she came back up and talked to him.

“There’s a small cafe near here. It’s a bit more secluded than the one in the studio.” Annie took her place in front of the wheel, and promptly started to make her way down the road. “If you don’t mind of course.”  
“N-Not at all.” It was his idea in the first place, he pointed out. The ride there was far more serene than the ride to the studio. Annie, he knew, wasn’t much for a conversation. Though he didn’t mind at all. In fact, he found comfort in silence with her.

“You’re not much for crowds, are you?” He asked as they settled into the booth. They ordered drinks, and Annie was in the middle of a sip when he asked. Were it not for the sincere tone of his voice, she would have had no problem telling him it was none of his business.

She leaned her cheek against her palm, and played mindlessly with her straw. “I guess not,” She confessed with a sigh. “They’re suffocating. Too many voices. Not like it matters, anyway.”

“I understand.” Armin smiled at her, and tried to meet her eyes. “S-Sorry if that was a bit invasive. I have a tendency to be nosy with you, don’t I?”

“Well I’m glad you noticed.” She didn’t crack a smile, but her tone told Armin she meant no malice. “That cute face of yours is dangerous. It gets people to spill the beans. Really Mr. Arlert, you should become an interrogator.”

He leaned forward on his elbows, his smile growing wide. “You actually think I have a cute face, Annie?”

“I think a lot of people are cute.” Her eyes flickered to his, and Armin noted the pink hue of her cheeks.

“Do you tell them often?”

“All the time. I just told you, didn’t I?” Annie tapped her foot on top of his.

“You also told me I have a face that makes people talk.” He bit his lip, trying to stop his grin from getting wider.

“Stuff it.” She leaned back, arms crossed. Armin couldn’t help but chuckle., thankfully covering his amusement with a sip from his glass of water. She seemed so childishly pouty for a moment, he almost wanted to pinch her rosey cheeks. Though that urge was pushed aside for something completely different when he felt something run up his leg.

He froze up, and momentarily choked on his beverage. Annie raised her eyebrows, and Armin once again witnessed her acting skills. He took a deep breath, and pushed through the sensation that shot through his body.

“Y-You’re awfully shy for an actress.” He commented, unable to resist the desire to get personal once more.

“And you’re awfully soft for a director.” She leaned forward again, a small smirk gracing her lips. “But why rehash what we’ve already discussed?”

“Well, first off, you’re running your foot up my leg. And as n-nice as it feels, it’s really making me wonder what I have to do to truly gain your trust and confidence.”

Any game of footsie she was attempting abruptly stopped. Her face fell flat again, and she straightened up her posture. “Sorry. I hadn't noticed. We all have those little habits.”

“Why are you trying so hard to get a reaction out of me, Annie? What do you think I’m going to do?” Armin knit his brows, a worrying feeling building in his stomach.

“....” She tapped her fingers on the table, and Armin was quick to note how she avoided eye contact again. He smiled at her as softly as he could, and hesitated before reaching across for her hand. That certainly got her attention, as her eyes darted the moment he made contact. Armin almost felt her flinch.

“Annie, I’m just here to make a movie. It’s all I want to do. I love this art! And I admire your talent above all. I really do!” His brows knit as he tried to make himself sound as sincere as he truly was.

The two seemed to endlessly bore into each other. To his relief, she didn’t look angry or uncomfortable. Her eyes widened as she appeared to relax.

“You think this is an art, huh?” She asked, her tone far lighter. It was more of a subject change than anything, he figured.

He nodded, and took his hand away from hers. “I do. I think this industry is capable of doing some incredible things. If not for all this censorship coming around...”

“Do you think you’re going to be the big game changer, Mr. Arlert?” Their food finally came as she asked this. She seemed undeterred.

“I-I’d certainly like to contribute something.” His cheeks flushed. His hands reached for a spoon, but he too barely paid attention to what was in front of them. “I don’t think I’m ever going to be as good as DeMille, or Griffith, or...well, I think I just want to leave behind something noteworthy. Don’t you?”

* * *

Their lunch ended on a high note of pleasant conversation and a good meal, but in the back of Armin’s mind he couldn’t help but still question Annie’s worries. And that problem would have to stay on the back burner, what with the look they got from Erwin as they entered the studio.

Erwin Smith certainly had the imposing presence Armin expected, but not quite as harsh. From the way the two talked over the phone and in letters, he was simply a professional who knew how to get the job done in the most efficient and effective way possible. And Armin really admired that.

“Was I so late that you and Ms. Hart decided it would be okay to run off?” There wasn’t a significant amount of irritation in his voice, much to Armin’s relief. His hard gaze seemed to be more focused on Annie, whose arm was still linked with Armin’s as they walked toward the crew. She was quick, almost too quick, to separate.

Pushing back his slight disappointment, he cleared his throat. Erwin toward over him when he stepped up to shake the man's hand.  He was met with an incredibly firm grip, making him feel all the more insignificant in an industry as huge as the film industry. He put a smile on his face and spoke up.  

“M-Mr. Smith,” He took his clammy hand away, and promptly stuffed it in his pocket. “I apologize, i-it’s just the time was a little…” Armin trailed off as a small grin crept up on Erwin’s face.

“Take a deep breath, kid, I’d rather have a living director.” Levi cracked from the side, giving Armin the chance to exhale.

The amount of time it took from him getting into Jean’s car, arriving at the studio, and finally placing his bum in a directors chair was far too long for his liking. Something which he sincerely hoped wouldn’t be repeated. However, work had to be done that day, and he had barely any time to reflect on it by the time he received his megaphones and was told to do test shots.

Three were placed in front of him. One for long shots, one for mid-shots, and a smaller one for close ups. He grabbed the one for mid shot, and instructed his three leads to stand on the incomplete set as Levi began to crank the camera. No lights had been set up yet, and he was missing half a crew. For the time being, he had to simply deal with it.

“Okay, as these are just test shots, I’d like the three of you to simply interact.” He shouted into the megaphone, feeling oddly confident in that place of power. Behind him, Eren and Mikasa stood with their arms crossed, watching the would-be scene unfold. “Yeah, just like that. Jean, if you could make it look like you’re charming them...Yeah, like that. Remember, you’re a young lord...”

He never accounted for just how distracting Annie’s eyes would be every time they met his, looking for direction.

It was easier on the train, when it was just the two of them.

Eventually, Armin nudged Levi out of the way, and looked through the camera’s lens. The shot was set up perfectly, he thought, but he couldn’t help but turn it her way just a little more.

He also couldn’t help noticing how tired her eyes looked, compared to the rest of her face.

She’s bored, he thought. He knew exactly why, too. If she could only put aside whatever fear or stubbornness she had in her, he could easily help.

No way was she going to even perform well if her heart wasn’t in it.

Upon rewatch, it was even evident in her body language. Armin sat forward, rewinding the negatives he brought home from that days test footage. Eren sat beside him, slowly rolling them through the projector.

“Christa and Kirschtein aren’t playing sweethearts in this, are they? Because I have to say, fella, they’ve got the chemistry of stale bread.” Eren laughed to himself as he began to crank the projector forward again.

Armin glanced at him with a smile. “No, actually. He kills her. Annie and him do have a couple moments, though.”

“Try not to get too icy about that, Arlert.”

“Ha! Believe me, I don’t have to worry about that with Jean- Ah, Eren, stop!” Armin laughed as his best friend continued to ruffle his hair. He ended up kicking a couple cans of film to the ground in his attempt to push his hands away, his bangs obscuring his view.

“If this is how you fishes are gonna work, this picture’s a bust.” Jean poked his head through the door frame. As Armin pushed his hair out of his face, Eren got busy cleaning up the film cans.

“You okay?” Armin asked, noting the bags under Jean’s eyes and his ruffled, two-toned hair.

“What? Y-Yeah, I was just, uh,” He rubbed his eyes, and fixed his posture. The bow tie he wore that afternoon hung loose around his neck. “I was just working on things in my office and I got a phone call. Or rather, you got a phone call.”

“Oh?” he got up, and quickly walked out of the room toward Jean’s office. The receiver rested right off the base. Armin grabbed it and sat on the desk, while holding the stick up to his mouth before speaking. “Hello?”

“Ah, wonderful. I was afraid I’d be stuck speaking to Jean.”

The sound of Annie’s deadpan voice brought a smile to his face. “Don’t worry, I would never subject you to that.”

“Aw, kid, you’re too sweet.” He could hear a hint of a laugh in her low tone. His cheeks were already growing pink.

“Is there anything you need?”

She took in a deep breath, letting it out with a huff. Whatever it was, Armin had the feeling it took more courage than she’d admit. “Let me make changes to my character.”

He perked up immediately. “Really??”

“...Hm. Yeah.” There was a certain amount of hesitation in her voice that he didn’t miss. “You want to get a good performance out of me, don’t you? I can’t do that if I’m simply bored. If this picture is a bomb, I don’t want it to be my fault.”

“Pfft, thanks.” He smiled ear to ear. “I’m glad to know you trust me now.”

“That’s an awful lot to assume, Armin.”

The sound of his name in her voice was almost too foreign. For a moment, his breath was caught. “...I think you just confirmed it, actually.” He bit his lip, and leaned forward on his lap.

“...I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Arlert.”

“Come home with us after rehearsal!” He piped in before hanging up. “We’ll talk more about it than.”

“Okay.” He could hear an edge of nervousness in her voice. “Have dinner ready for me.”

“Anything for you, Ms. Leonhardt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of those stereotypes people have of film directors today, including their attire, really do go as far back as the Silent directors. Those early directors were characters themselves, lemme tell ya!  
> Any way, I hope you enjoy! Questions, comments, concerns, ect. You know what to do!
> 
> Historical and Slang notes:  
> >Sheik- a man with sex appeal, with Sheba being the female equivalent.  
> >Dry up- Shut up  
> >High hat- snob  
> >milquetoast- Timid  
> >"This Side of Paradise" aka Fitzgerald's OTHER novel about his disillusionment with post-WWI America, featuring thinly veiled expy's of his wife. And I say that with the utmost respect. I actually love his work.  
> >Technicolor had actually been around for years before 1923! It was, however, rare to find a feature length film in technicolor, as it was a bit experimental and obviously expensive. The one that comes to mind is 1926's The Black Pirate, staring Douglas Fairbanks


	4. Rhapsody in Rhythm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dinner, a dance, and a step too far.

Armin had not mentioned that Annie would be coming home with them after rehearsal.

That much was clear to Annie the moment she stepped through the door. Or rather, when she started following their car and kept getting odd looks back. She was fairly certain Jean flipped her off at one point, as well.

Though the awkwardness of the situation really started to set in when she sat with them at dinner.

“Salt?”

“Sure.”

She sat next to Armin as if on instinct, and on the other side of her was Sasha Blouse, whose loud southern drawl could be heard talking away until the food was served. Annie couldn’t deny she had a certain charm about her, though. Especially in her interactions with her band leader boyfriend, Connie.

Mikasa and Eren sat across, and Eren was deeply engrossed in whatever him and Armin were discussing. Mikasa switched between including herself in their conversation, and giving Annie some sort of quick dirty look before looking back down.

To be fair, Mikasa wasn’t the only one who gave her a strange look when she sat with them. Surprisingly, Jean managed to be a bit more subtle about it. Between the two of them, all she could do was look down at her plate. That, and tap on Armin’s foot with her own in an attempt to get his attention.

“Would you like some spinach, Annie?” Mikasa asked, holding out a platter in front of her with an oddly hard look on her face.

She scrunched her nose and shook her head. “No thank you, I’ll pass.”

“Do you have a problem with my cooking?”

“What? No, I just don’t like spinach.”

“Yeah, if it gets stuck in her teeth, it’s gonna stick out big time on screen.” Jean cut in with a rather obnoxious laugh. Luckily, Marco was able to hit him upside the head before Annie did.

“Oh, Jean, sincerely, I apologize for making you put so much strain on your body to move an extra chair to the table for me. I should have realized that a leading man such as yourself needs to save his energy for when you go on and chew the scenery.” Annie looked the other way, taking a sip from her wine glass as she heard Sasha snicker in the background.

Armin’s voice thankfully broke through before Jean could retort.

“Annie! You know, I don’t think I ever got to properly introduce you to my buddies over here! Connie, Sasha, I’m sure you know all about Annie.”

“Oh, is she the ‘Annie’ you were talking about all blitzed at Jean’s party?!” Connie spoke up, leering at a noticeably pink-faced Armin. The thought of him drunk brought a crooked smile to Annie’s face. It didn’t surprise her, with how obviously hung over he had been that next morning.

Of course, she wasn’t one to talk in the least. Annie was just lucky for the fact she never got intense hangovers herself.

“Shit, Armin, was it you who took all my whisky?”   

Armin quickly ignored both Connie and Jean, continuing with his original thought. “They’re musicians. Good friends of ours from a Brooklyn Speakeasy.”

“You’re much shorter in person, doll.” Sasha commented with a sincere smile.

Annie stared at her, bewildered for a moment. “Thanks?”

Sasha flashed her another bright smile before turning back to Connie, her hand tight on his arm.

“Connie’s been employed to compose a score for a Metro picture.” Armin softly explained, leaning toward her. “Sasha’s a dancer, but I did promise she could be in a picture.”

“I see.” Annie took a bite of her bread, and observed the couple for a moment. They were cute, there was no doubt about it. Though she couldn’t help but wonder how a girl from the deep south ended up with a trumpet player from Harlem.

She could still feel Jean glaring at her. It’s not like the two were strangers, or enemies. They’d worked together a few times, and he was never exactly this irritable. Most of the time he was fairly chipper, if a bit cocky, and at times cynical.

As she noticed him push down the sleeves of his shirt, making sure they always stayed past the elbow, she had a good guess as to why that was. With all these people staying in his house, it was only a matter of time before someone stumbled upon a stray needle or bottle. She wasn’t going to be the one to clue them in.

Mikasa, on the other hand, was a bit of a mystery to her. Annie found no reason to dislike her, but it seemed like Mikasa was all too willing to dislike Annie. She figured it was due to her protectiveness of Armin, but she couldn’t be sure. Eren, thankfully, tried to be as pleasant with Annie as possible, which she appreciated.

Marco was never one to be rude to her, especially when they worked together. So between Armin, Eren, and Marco, she felt a little at ease sitting there. Yet not enough.

As she took up her fork and knife to cut into her steak, Marco asked the obvious question. “Annie. what brings you to dinner tonight?”

“Script writing. I’m helping Armin write a new ending.”

“Ymir will be coming over later to show me some costume designs, actually.” Armin quickly added in.

“Script writing, now...” Jean commented, a smirk on his tired looking face. “Armin really does look for any reason to flirt with you, huh?”

Armin choked on the water he was sipping. “Jean!! Please don’t say that!”

“Jesus, Kirschtein, you are damn nosy when it comes to people's love lives.” Eren snarled at him from across the table, quickly earning a disapproving glance from Mikasa. Annie felt like she was missing something between those two, but she wasn’t about to ask. Like most dinner parties, she preferred the role of the quiet observer. For example, she observed that Armin’s face was still red from Jean’s comment. Something which, in her opinion, indicated it had some weight to it.

“Cut me some slack, I let you people into my house and you don’t expect me to be a little nosy? Jeez, this is the thanks I get…” He poured himself a glass of bootleg wine, something Annie thought was a bad combination with whatever else was in his system.

“Aw, you really feel that way?” Eren leered as Jean, ignoring Mikasa’s suggestion that he back off. “Fine. Well you know, apparently you and Christa Lenz have been an item for a while, see? Why don’t you insure the dame already, see how easy of a process it is!”

A general sense of unease washed over Jean’s side of the table. Next to Jean, Annie noticed Marco’s face darken. He put his fork down, taking a quick drink of water to wash down whatever bad taste had suddenly come into his mouth.

 _Oh._ Annie peaked over at Armin, the two seemingly coming to similar conclusions as their eyes met.

Jean glared his bloodshot eyes like daggers, nostrils flaring. “Lay the fuck off Jaeger, or you’re out on the goddamn street.”

“Calm down, you’re spoiling the meal.” He spit back, finally backing off a bit as Mikasa asked.

“I am, really? Goddamn, someone asks a simple question about the kraut leading lady over here and only you would somehow turn that into an argument!”

This time, it was Annie’s turn for her nostrils to flare and eyes to narrow. “Please, repeat that Jean. I didn’t quite catch it the first time.”

“Okay!” Armin stood up, putting a hand on Annie’s shoulder. “I am absolutely stuffed! Annie, are you?? Because we really should get to work!”

Annie took a deep breath, her glare still on Jean. “I couldn’t possibly eat another bite.”

“I’ll get your plates.” Mikasa reached over, giving Armin a reassuring glance as he looked on nervously.

He nodded, and grabbed Annie’s hand. “If you need us, we’ll be in my office. Uh, dinner was great! Really!”

“Absolutely wonderful.” Annie was quick to follow him out and away from that mess of a dinner table. She didn’t even want to know how he was going to deal with it for the next few months.

She felt relieved as they walked up the first couple flights of stairs and away from the noise. The house was far nicer in a quieter atmosphere.

“Ah, Annie, I’m sorry about all...that.” Her hand was still in his as they walked up to his third floor office. She didn’t seem that bothered anymore, except perhaps in her rather shaky body language.

She sighed, and squeezed his hand. “I’ve heard worse, and from actors more high off their asses than him.”

“Does that happen to you a lot?” He asked, an eyebrow cocked. She shook her head.

“To tell you the truth, not usually. Mostly because I mind my own business.” Armin led her into his office, pulling in an extra desk chair. “Mr. Arlert, in this industry, the best advice I can give you is to try not to get involved in anyone’s bullshit. It’s never worth it.”

Annie studied his face as he set up his typewriter. He was silent, but obviously in thought. The crinkle in his nose and cock of his eyebrow said as much. She found herself increasingly enamored with his eyes. They had a timeless look to them that contrasted well with his boyish face. A softer blue, much more welcoming than the icy look hers had. Perhaps he wasn’t traditionally handsome, but he was incredibly attractive in his own right.

“What made you change your mind?” He asked, offering Annie her seat. She crossed her legs when she sat, and leaned forward against her palm.

She hesitated to answer. “...Your guess is as good as mine.”

He frowned, but nodded his head.

“You know, Mr. Arlert, the last director to offer me some sort of creative control only did so with a certain price.” Her tone was less accusatory, and more matter-or-fact. “Needless to say, I passed on that paycheck.”

His eyebrows knit. “I….I figured as much. I hope I’ve done enough to assure you that I only want to make a movie, Annie. I promise I expect nothing more than a performance from you. One that I know you can do well.” A soft smile returned to his face, and Annie found herself perking up at the sight.

“Of course. You’re way too genuine for your own good, at times.” She returned a smile as well, one that was small but thoroughly sincere. “Learn to play dirty, kid, it’s an asset in this business.”

He laughed, and walked over to the phonograph in the corner of the room. “I don’t think I’ll have any issue with that.”

“You have the power of persuasion, I’ll give you that, mac.”

He turned to her with a smile and a raised eyebrow, before turning his focus back to a small box of records. “You don’t mind if I play music, right? I find it helps me work.”

She shook her head. “It helps me work too. How else am I supposed to produce so many fake tears?”

 He chuckled, and set a new record under the needle. As he turned the crank, Annie’s eyes wandered around his small office. It was practically an attic. The floors were creaky, almost alarmingly so, and it was obviously not well insulated. It was just a desk, a small bed, a nightstand, and a phonograph. Armin would surely freeze were this attic room in New York instead of Southern California.

Eventually her eyes fell on her own. That is, the image of herself on a magazine cover for Photoplay that rested off to the corner of his desk. She remembered sitting for that portrait a couple months ago. How she sat in a chair for an hour to get her hair and makeup done for one end result of a photograph. Though that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst, she thought, was her bat shit crazy photographer. The woman refused to let her out until she had photographed the perfect angle. She remembered the crazy look in the woman’s eye when she tried to get up after the 65th shot.

It was a real nightmare to remember, but it was hard to tell by the smile on her face. It didn’t look natural, but it was the efforts of a very determined and out-of-her-damn-mind photographer.

“Ah! That’s, uh,” Armin sat down next to her, scratching his crimson face. “I don’t usually...buy those…”

She flipped through the pages, landing on the article about herself. “Neither do I, kid.”

“I...I just thought you...well, the cover caught my eye and…” He continued to mumble as he put paper into the typewriter, his eyes trying their best to keep away from Annie’s. She couldn’t help but wonder why the heck he was so ashamed of a little guilty purchase.

She put the magazine down, and pulled her chair closer, leaning her elbows against the surface.

“Do you have an ending written yet?” She asked, finally stopping his mumbling.

“I did! However I was thinking last night. About how your character could play a more active role in it. So I decided to scrap that ending.” He rolled up the sleeves of his button down and pushed back his hair.

Annie heard the loud ding of the typewriter, and examined the movement of his fingers as he began. It was strangely in tune with the melody playing around them. She recognized it. A popular foxtrot she’d heard once at a studio party.

“Do you know how to dance, Mr. Arlert?”

“Huh? Christ, no.” He chuckled, and continued to type away. “Eren and Mikasa have tried to show me plenty of times. I just wasn’t born with the right feet, I guess.”

“Few are.”

“Why? If you don’t mind me asking.”

She shrugged, and scooched closer. “Just curious.”

He smiled at her, meeting Annie’s gaze with cheeks still tinted pink. Before it was held for too long, he cleared his throat.

“So I originally wrote your character with your previous roles fully in mind, of course. She’s a bit of a blank slate. Your typical ingenue, any beauty contest winner could have played her. What I want to do now is make a character only you alone can play.” He turned to her, giving her the floor for input.

“...” Annie stared at the document in front of her. She certainly meant what she said on the phone. Annie was determined to not be the reason this picture theoretically failed. But if she were to play a part completely foreign to the public, how willing would they be to accept? Armin was quick to note her hesitation.

“Well...personally, if we were going by face alone, I’d think you were a shoe-in for a baby vamp. But...obviously that’s not what they thought a few years ago.” He had that contemplating look on his face again. A look she was growing to really like. “You have the sharp features for a vamp, but not the public persona. You’re like...Theda Bara, appearing as Lillian Gish. When I watch you on screen, you give off an atmosphere of glamour. A bit dark, actually...”  

He tapped his chin, and Annie spoke up. “Switch the roles around and make me the killer.”

Armin chuckled, and met her smirking face. “I don’t think Jean would be too happy about that. He’s looking forward to playing an ax murderer!”

“And Christa and I are stuck playing two innocent young sisters caught in it all. Christa is at least playing a ghost half the time, not that the audience will know...those two will be memorable. This really isn’t half bad for a first feature length screenplay.”

“...Thanks.”

She nudge him, a twinge of guilt pulling at her chest. “I didn’t mean to say it was sub par. It’s anything but.”

“What? Oh, no no! I know you didn’t I was just thinking…” The two were silent, and for a moment all she could hear was the  jazz in the background.

Annie subconsciously tapped her foot to the beat of the familiar tune.

“What if….what if you were a killer, though…” Armin mumbled, still deep in thought.

Annie cocked a brow, and nudged him again. “I was kidding. I don’t think the studio bigwigs would approve of that.”

“Yeah, but...o-okay, hear me out, Annie.” He turned to her, his expression darkening. “In my original ending, it was a chase. You find out about Jean’s nature, he tried to get rid of you and ends up chasing you through the woods behind his house…”

“Okay?” Her brows knit as he continued to talk.

“And...really, I was stumped there.”

“That’s helpful.”

“No no, just hear me out!” He took in a deep breath, and grabbed her hands. Annie’s eyebrows furrowed, but she wasn’t about to tear them away. “What if you killed him?”

“...Go on.”

“We don’t make any changes to your character before that final scene. He’s chasing after you through the woods with a pistol. All you have is an ax from the tool shed.” His face went from dark to bright in an instance, and at a time where Annie thought it was rather odd. “Think about it! You start out as the typical ingenue the audience has come to love. At the end, all virtue is gone, and all you care for is your own survival. The very end. That way they won’t be alienated by the very premise of your character!”

“We string the audience along, and then betray every expectation they have.”

“Exactly. Something which I think is very...well, you, Ms. Annie.”

He felt proud of himself when he saw the glint in her eyes.

“You really think you can get away with that, Mr. Arlert?”

Armin let go of her hands and turned back to his typewriter, placing his fingers on any assortment of keys. “I think so. I mean, I’m a fish in their eyes, so it’s not like they’re expecting much for my first feature. I know they’re not exactly encouraging displaying unnecessary violence, but...hm.” He sat back and tapped on his chin once again.

“You could always sneak it in.” She thought along with him, her foot continuing to tap along with the beat of the music in the background. “If you’re really so gung-ho about this risk, mac.”

Annie sat up, and found herself scrunching the skirt of her dress. In truth, she wasn’t so sure she was willing to take such a big risk either. Not if it put her career at risk.

The more she thought about it, the more confused she got. _It’s not like I act for fun to begin with._  

She didn’t say anything. Not about that. Armin began to type, and she looked over his shoulder. As he began the process of rewriting the entire third act, the two found themselves working rather well in sync.  

Annie was quick to make suggestions to a scene he was writing, and Armin was more than willing to listen. He took joy in hearing her input, even letting her come up with entire scenes as it went on.

They always failed to mention how bright she was in articles. At least that’s what Armin thought as the hours went on. Hours. He could have sworn it was a half hour at best. It only hit Annie how long they had been sitting there together when she noticed the music no longer playing.

The room was significantly darker than before. She guessed the time was around 8-8:30pm, telling by how far down the sun was. Armin leaned back in his chair and took a stretch, audibly moaning as his joints cracked. He turned around to see Annie poking through the box of vinyls.

“I hadn’t even noticed the record stop.” He said with a yawn, earning an acknowledging smile from Annie.  

“Are these yours or are they Jean’s?”

“They’re mine! Packed from home. Like I said, I love working with music in the background.”

She smiled to herself, and continued to look at his selection. “You have a lot of Foxtrot’s.”

Behind him, Armin could hear her stand up and move toward the phonograph. He could hear her as she took the current record off the plate and replaced it with the one under her arm. The needle scratched down as she cranked the handle. Armin turned in his seat and watched her move. Sasha was right about her appearing taller on screen. Annie was an incredibly petite woman, smaller even than him, but also very well built. Any brief flash he got of her legs and arms told him that she was much, much stronger than she appeared.

As the music played, he smiled. It was a favorite record of his. He tapped his foot along with the rhythm of the foxtrot. A slightly faster variant of the popular style, at least. Annie stood still next to the phonograph, arms crossed and face neutral. One of her eyebrows cocked up.

“Mr. Arlert, are you going to keep sitting there, or are you going to join me?”

“H-Huh?” For a moment, Armin went bug-eyed and cocked his head. “You mean to dance? Annie, I told you! I’ve got two left feet!”

“Bushwa.” She walked over and grabbed his hands, dragging his somewhat stiff form toward the center of the room. “You’re in this business now, no? Meaning sooner than later, you’ll be invited to a studio party. You’ll have to know how to dance in that situation.” _What the hell am I even doing?_

Armin could feel himself shaking as she drew him closer, putting one arm on his shoulder and taking his hand in her own. “A-Annie I don’t know if this is a good idea, I mean-”

“Hold my back.”

The dark pink hue of her cheeks was nothing compared to the crimson of his. He drummed his fingers on her shoulder blade, careful not to hold her in too rough of a manner. He was grateful she wasn’t in an open-backed evening dress. After taking a big gulp and a deep breath, he straightened himself up. “Okay. Sorry, my hands are a bit...clammy….”

“That’s fine.” Annie’s were as well, after all. She always had the advantage of being an actress, easily covering up how nervous she got at the feel of his chest against hers. As their eyes met, her heart raced. Her face was still as deadpan as ever. “As I am the lead, I reserve every right to call you by your first name for the next hour.”

“Heh, we’re alone, I don’t mind in any way.” He squeezed her hand and flashed her a meek, nervous grin. “This is a Baltimore.”

“It’s a bit faster. If you don’t mind.”

He nodded his head, keeping that nervous grin on his face. The music was, to his relief, in common time. He knew the dance itself required wide, constant movements on the dance floor. Not to mention close contact, unlike the Charleston. It was like a faster waltz, which, at least, was a dance he was actually okay at.

“Just follow my lead.” Annie whispered as the song began again.

Almost immediately, Armin tripped over Annie’s feet as he tried to go in the opposite direction.

“Careful, tiger.”

“Sorry…” he straightened himself up again, pushing his blonde hair out of his eyes and grabbing her hand. “I’m glad we’re getting a lot of work done tonight.”

She looked up at him with a half grin and a small chuckle. “Start to the right. You don’t have to jazz it up just yet.”

“I can try at least!” He met her eyes with a brighter, slightly more confident smile, which Annie returned. She rocked back and forth on her heels, ready to start again at the count of three.

After a deep breath, he was far more prepared. They started better than the first time, though Armin was significantly more stiff than he should have been. The two fell into such a consistent rhythm with the music that Annie didn’t want to bother stopping him.

The song changed to another of the same style, and they continued. She used her leading position to try and make him sway and loosen up.

“Don’t stand so rigid, Armin. Get hot.” She gave his neck a small tickle, which of course caused him to jolt.

“I’m getting there, I’m getting there!” he laughed, starting to sway back and forth more to her beat. “You’re such a pushy teacher, Mrs. Grundy.”

“Oh, Mrs. Grundy, am I?” She pinched his shoulder, making Armin produce a squeak she’d never imagine could come from a man’s mouth. He quickly melted into laughter. “No Pickford’s going to want to dance with you if you’re crummy at it. I try to help and this is what I get.”

“Maybe I’ll just have to be stuck dancing with you? A fate worse than death for Ms. Annie Hart. If only the public knew you were such a vamp.” The sound of her own stage name gave Annie a laugh. For a moment, as she calmed herself down, she hid her face in his chest. Armin’s cheeks went completely warm.

She stood back up straight, and their eyes met once again. They fell into a comfortable silence as the quick paced song played on. As much as Annie tried, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his. They really did have a comforting look to them, at least to her. Comforting, and brilliant. As he stared, she could feel him studying every inch of her face. Her icy blues, her roman nose, her sharp features. Mostly though, he was focused on her eyes. He barely looked away, his attentiveness obvious with how his eyes never glazed over even into the next song.

“Stop that.” She cut through the silence, much to Armin’s surprise.

“Stop what, Annie?” His brows knitted into a frown, and he squeezed her hand again.

“You’re trying to read me. I can tell.”

Armin’s worries were alleviated by the small, half grin on Annie’s lips. “Am I? I’m sorry, I guess sometimes I do it without noticing.”

His own grin made her doubt that claim. “Are you a gossip writer or a director?”

“I could probably make a fair amount of money doing either.” He shrugged, and continued to sway with her. Without meaning to or warning, he took the lead.

“Hm. Still not sold on becoming an interrogator?”

He laughed, and shook his head. “Nope! You’re stuck with me as long as my contract demands!”

Annie bit her lip, and the two went silent again. She was, of course, responsible for breaking the silence a second time. “See, now you’re on the trolley. You’re better at this than you give yourself credit for.”

“You think so?” Armin smiled wide, genuinely touched. “I guess it all comes down to figuring out the pattern, and that’s something I’m good for…”

“Give yourself more credit, kid.” She flashed him that small, genuine smile he was always happy to get out of her.   

“I’ll give credit where credit is due.” His eyes shifted to the side a bit as he returned her smile. This small change of visual focus, however, was enough to trip him up and almost fall on his ass, were it not for Annie supporting him.

“Or maybe you do have two left feET- AH, that was my big toe, Armin!” She scolded, giving him a small glare. “Watch it.”

“I’m sorry Annie, I told you I- nO!” He shrieked, as she started to tickle his neck again. It was obvious that she felt too powerful in that position. He laughed, trying his best to push her hand away. “A-Annie! My side hurts, come on!”

He was shocked to see her smiling so widely as she began to tickle him more. It seemed she was loosening up more than he was, making his imminent asthma attack all the more worth it. “Come on, Armin. Stand up straight.”

“I-I can’t! You’re- Annie!” He managed to finally get a hold of her hand, keeping it at a distance as he leveled himself back up. The sight and sound of her own melodious laughter only made him laugh harder. He pulled her in closer, and the two rested their foreheads together as they tried to catch their breath.

His breath was taken away once again when he felt something press against his lips.

Her lips.

He had no clue how it happened. He held her waist, as her hands rested on his shoulders. Making it all the more easy for the two to push each other away when it hit them what was happening.

“I-I…” Armin stammered for several seconds, unsure of what to make of the shocked, almost mortified expression on Annie’s burning red face. “Annie, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know how that happened. I-”

He felt her grip tighten on his shoulders, and something flashed in her eyes. It wasn’t rage. No, he couldn’t tell what it was. His heart was pounding in his chest.

“I-I-I’ll walk you out, uh-” He began to turn away, but was quickly stopped short as she grabbed his shirt collar.

He had little time to react. Before he could say anything, she put a finger to his lips, and brought him right back in.

There was a surge of heat between them that he absolutely reveled in. Her hands crumpled up the front of his shirt, keeping him close as his own held her face. Armin longed to deepen the kiss, but he was already overstepping, and he knew it.

Or so he thought. A squeak escaped his lips the moment he felt her tongue dart into his mouth. His mind was quickly going fuzzy, but he reciprocated in full. His hands found their way to her waist as hers traveled to his hair, threading and tugging at his locks.

He felt another surge of heat when he heard something he hadn’t expected.

“Ah-” She moaned into his mouth, as if begging him to give her a little more. The sides of his lips curled into a grin, and he led her toward the wall.

The air was quickly growing heavy, and thick. One of Annie’s legs found its way between his, causing his breath to catch the moment her knee made contact with his crotch.

“That’s not fair.” He whispered against her lips, barely breaking their kiss. Annie responded with a grin, and pushed her knee up further. She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, breaking apart from his lips to kiss at his neck and collarbone. It produced just the reaction she hoped for, as Armin melted into her.

His breath was becoming heavier, but hers wasn’t far behind.

“Hmm, you’re not hard to excite.” She commented, hands brushing over the hem of his pants as she came up to kiss him again. Armin didn’t let their lips meet again. Instead, he responded by kissing down her neck. Near the base, he bit down and sucked, leaving a bright red mark that was sure to stay for a couple weeks. Annie sighed and moaned, which only proved to excite him more.

She lifted her other leg up close to his side, and he was quick to feel up her thigh, pushing her skirt out of the way. He went bright, crimson red again when he felt the top of her stockings and her garter.

His head was ringing, his stomach was flipping, and his face was burning. Annie, on the other hand, seemed much calmer, almost dominant. At least that’s what she tried to convey. When he started palming her ass however, she started to melt as much as him.

His hands stayed resting on her ass for a while until Annie pushed them both from the wall and over toward the desk. Their lips met again, sloppy and rough, as he hoisted her onto the top. Papers fell to the floor, but neither of them cared in that moment. They didn’t care about anything. They barely understood what was happening, but neither were willing to stop it.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, pulling him as close as he could get with their clothes on. She tugged at his hair, pulling his head back to give herself better access to his neck. That bite he gave her was repaid several times over on his collarbone. He started to rut against her, feeling a constriction in his trousers he’d never felt before.

Annie let go of his hair and met his lips again, tangling her tongue with his. Her hands were more focused on his chest now. Her fingers slipped into his unbuttoned shirt and felt over his rather scrawny torso. And oddly enough, she loved it.

Now, Armin hadn’t been to confession in a few months. Were his mother still alive, he knew she would get on his case about that. His Polish-born parents tried their best to raise him a good, morally upstanding Catholic boy, and for the most part they did a good job up until the day of their untimely deaths. For a split second, he couldn’t help but think of how much dear, sweet mama Arlert would...rather _loudly_ disapprove of his imminent fornication with his leading lady on an attic desk.

  Those thoughts were swept away the moment he felt her rut back against him. He tipped up her chin and kissed her again, absolutely eating up every sigh and moan she let out as his hands slowly made their way back to her ass. That damn, perfect ass.

“I wouldn’t call this getting work done at all.” He murmured against her lips.

“Oh, I’m sure you have plenty of ideas popping into your head now.” She tugged him right back in, one hand at his back, nails digging into his skin each time he rutted harder against her. She got back at him by palming his obvious erection. His breath hitched in his throat, knees buckling slightly. His hand darted to grab her wrist, pushing her palm harder against him, “Oh, yes.” Annie felt her grin grow wider, fingers starting to wrap around the base and squeeze. “ _My_ , Mr. Arlert, height definitely is not an indicator, is it?”

He bit his lip, letting out a small whine before pushing forward and capturing lips again, slipping in his tongue before she got a chance to tease him again. Her hand continued to palm and squeeze his crotch, the sensation causing Armin’s mind to almost go fuzzy. He was ready to scoop her up, and carry her to the bed across the room, desperate to satiate their urges.

“Well well well. I didn’t realize I was being invited to a petting party, boss.”

At once, the two broke apart, their eyes darting toward the door. There Ymir stood, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, a snide smile spread across her cheeks.

“Oh, no need to stop for me! I’d hate to get between a good necking session! I can always call Christa, tell her I’m free for the rest of the night.”

Armin and Annie were frozen in place. Up until Annie pushed him away, a bit rougher than she intended. He turned to see her bug-eyed expression as she hopped off of the desk and clumsily brushed off her skirt. He himself was swiftly buttoning his shirt back up, not even bothering to tuck it back into his trousers.

 _Fuck._ She tried her best to pat down her hair, and looked up at Armin with a burning red face. “I have to go.”

He cleared his throat and forced a nervous grin. “I’ll walk you out.” He scratched the back of his neck, and took her arm as they both rushed toward the door.

“Don’t take too long, Arlert, I’d like to get some sleep tonight! Unlike some people apparently.” Ymir’s laugh could be heard as they quickly descended the stairs.

They were silent, save for a few awkward throat clearings. When they finally got to the front door, he felt her hand slip into his.

“Kid, I’m _really_ liking the idea of my character being a killer all of a sudden.”

“H-Huh?” He turned to face her, both of their faces still as bright red as they had been just moments ago.

“I think I’ll imagine Ymir’s face as I’m swinging the ax. You know, during rehearsal.” her brows were furrowed, her eyes pointedly turned away from his.

“Whatever helps I guess, heh.” He still had that nervous grin, and waited for her to do something. Anything. He wanted to lean down, kiss her cheek, maybe kiss her lips again. Instead, she looked at him with a brief flash of fear in her otherwise deadpan eyes.

“Are you okay?” He felt stupid asking, but it was only right.

She bit her lip, forcing a small grin. “I’ll see you next week, Mr. Arlert.”

As she said her goodbye and turned, Armin grabbed her hand and pulled her back again for a small kiss on the forehead. “We really made progress with the ending, I think.”

“...We did.” She took a deep breath and audibly gulped, the bright color on her face slowly fading. He reluctantly let go of her hand and bid her a good night. Armin watched her scurry down the stairs, and closed the door once he saw her reach her car.

Annie jumped into her royce and quickly started it up, eager to get back to her mansion and lay in bed. Not before she slammed her head against the wheel, taking a moment to breathe and clear her head. She sincerely hoped Ymir didn’t have a loose tongue. The last thing she wanted to read in the paper was her own name on a headline. With the scandals popping up in recent months, and the money it made the papers, she knew they’d grab for anything with even the slightest undertone of impropriety. Not her. Not when she actually had a few things to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been a bit too excited to write this part hAH-  
> Here's a link to The Baltimore: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ONRnvoBXizY  
> I spent way too long studying this damn video.  
> Poor Armin would have tripped right onto his ass.  
> Honestly, poor Armin in general. He'll have to take a cold shower every day for the next two weeks. Because he certainly doesn't wanna go blind!  
> ALSO I was originally planning on making Armin German as well, but I was inspired by my dear friend Phaeton to do something a little different this time around! Works well, I think! 
> 
> Historical and Slang notes:  
> >Blitzed: Yet another euphemism for drunk. Yeah. There is an endless amount.  
> >Metro: One of the bigger studios. it would eventually merge with Goldwyn studios and Meyer studios around '25-'26 to become what we know today as MGM.  
> >Insure: Become engaged  
> >Kraut: Derogatory term for a German, started around WWI, used primarily in the US and UK. Used mostly by soldiers come WWII.  
> >Theda Bara: Hollywood's original sex symbol, and the first onscreen Cleopatra! Unfortunately most of her filmography is lost to us today due to a vault fire that destroyed hundreds of miles of negatives.  
> >Lillian Gish: The woman who basically established what it meant to act on stage vs. acting on film. She played a lot of ingenues, but had a very wide rage. She also holds the record of having the longest film career in history, lasting from 1912 to 1988. Gish was just all around incredible, and if you couldn't tell, she's personally my favorite actress of all time.  
> >Fish: A first-timer. usually in prison.  
> >Get hot: Encouragement for a dancer.  
> >Mrs. Grundy: Kill-joy, prude  
> >Petting party: Ah, a bit self explanatory? Basically, everyone making out with everyone. yeah.


	5. Tinseltown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two steps over.

_October, 1923_

“A month or so ago, I was invited to a party at Famous Players-Lasky and happened upon a rare sight. Past the smoky haze and the crowd of lively young actors and actresses dancing with or against each other, I saw the form of one of Paramount’s most renowned picture people. Ms. Annie Hart stood off to the side, separating herself from the rest of her colleagues with a glass of water in one hand, and an unlit cigarette in the other. Her golden hair must have been bobbed recently, from the whispers I heard. She looked off to the side as if in deep thought, and as one observer near put it, ‘She looks like she’d rather be anywhere else.’ True enough, my partner and I decided to give her a quick hello.

“She looked up at me, and almost immediately one could recognize what was so special about Ms. Hart. She had a hard, cold stare that could freeze hell over. But it was a beautiful stare. Though the crowd was large, when she looked at you, no one else was there. It didn’t matter how you felt about the innocent young characters she played on screen. Your eyes were on her and that was that. And it’s normal, most people assume, for your average movie person to dream of fame and attention. To have the eyes and the applause of the world. But I guess that’s what makes Annie so different. This is the closest I’ve ever gotten to an interview with her.

“‘What motivates you to put on such powerful performances?’ I asked. And she gave a fairly simple answer along the lines of ‘the naps I take after each scene.’ My partner got a good laugh out of that, but Annie cracked only a small grin. Next, out of curiosity-that I know many others shared-I asked her for her opinion on recent events. The morphine induced death of fellow Paramount player Mr. Wallace Reid. Arbuckle’s trials. The rumors circulating of Christa Lenz’s all too close association with a female costumer. Or, alternatively, Christa Lenz’s apparent relationship with Jean Kirschtein. The censors influence.

“Ms. Hart simply shook her pretty little head, and answered, ‘You don’t bite the hand that feeds you.’ Then, without another word, she walked away. Neither me, nor my partner, saw her for the rest of the evening. Where did she go? Back to her Beverly Hills mansion, we can only assume. For the location of her home is one of the few things we know of Annie’s personal life. Her ability to stay so tight lipped about something so innocent as the name of her hometown only adds to the mystery of Annie Hart. Can her popularity hold if she chooses above all to stay so secluded? As one of the highest paid actresses in Tinseltown, bested only by the great Mary Pickford, it’s unlikely she’ll waver anytime soon. Only time, however, can tell.”

“Gossipy garbage…” She mumbled under her breath, tossing the copy of _Motion Picture_ Magazine onto her vanity table. _The Mystery of a Screen Beauty_ , by Marlowe Freudenberg, had been that issue’s feature article. Not that they bothered to inform her, of course. Annie took a deep breath, and continued to apply a deep pink blush to her cheeks.

Interviews were a hassle. Always coming up with questions that, in her mind, were irrelevant. What did her life before Hollywood have anything to do with her life in it? There was no great, philosophical reason for her to be there. The answer to the simple question of motivation was money, and a lot of it. Or, at least enough to stay far away from that old Orchard Street tenement.         

She stood up in front of the mirror, pulling on her favorite cream cloche hat over her head. In the other room, she could hear her housekeeper bustling about, straightening up the pillows for guests that never came.

The pleated skirt she wore still had wrinkles from one week ago. Armin’s hands were soft, but they didn’t go soft on her clothes when the time almost came to take them off. A time that, frustratingly enough, never happened.

_No, wait._

A time that, _thankfully_ , never happened. Yeah.

She took in a deep breath, and almost jumped when the phone rang. Her housekeeper went for it in her place.

“If it’s Mr. Dok, or Ms. Hitch again, tell them I said to shove it.” Her housekeeper gave her a nervous nod.

Part of her hoped that it would be Armin on the other line. She was certain it was only partial, as had it been more she knew she would be in trouble. She felt the trouble begin to stir in her stomach, and as she saw her housekeeper reach for the phone, she felt a phantom touch of the same hand that had gripped her wrist the week previous. She shuddered as she remembered the feeling of her wrist in his hand pulling her palm against his hips, and the feeling of it in her hand through the fabric. She shook her head, and patted her cheek. _Relax._

“Ms. Hart, it’s your father.”

From one trouble to another. Any butterflies she felt were replaced with deep disappointment.  

“Tell him I’m busy.”

“He’s insisting.”

Annie took in a deep breath, and grabbed the phone. From Annie Hart, back to Annie Leonhardt.

“Ich bin sehr beschäftigt, papa.”

She could hear his ragged breathing on the other end.

“Ach du meine güte, Ann…” He mumbled, his gruff voice giving her a jump. He sounded scratchy, slightly winded. A pang of guilt shot through her when she realized he’d probably waited a half hour for the phone to even connect from New York to LA. She toned the irritation in her voice down, but not by much.

“I’m sorry papa. Is there something wrong?” Annie asked as sincerely as she could. She took a deep, steady breath and bit her lip. He didn’t need to vocalize his answer, as she could hear him coughing wildly on the other end. Her brows knit for a moment, before promptly furrowing. “You’re out of chlorodyne, aren’t you?”

“It’s getting harder to take in a breath.”

She sighed, and started thinking of which fund she had to crack into this time to pay for her father’s medicines. Now this was something she definitely was opposed to talking about in interviews, and any who tried to ask knew well. There was nothing that could be said about her family other than the fact that she had been supporting them since she was seven. When he talked like this, it was difficult for her to gauge on whether or not it was a sincere need on his part, or some “motivational” guilt.

“Use the money I made from the pomade advertisements. Tell Mina to run to the pharmacy tomorrow.” She swallowed whatever was creeping up in her throat. As she went to hang up, she noticed just how sweaty her palms had turned. Her stomach began to churn, but not into butterflies like the boy had made her. Instead, it made her feel heavy, and nauseous.

She shook herself out of it and marched back to her vanity. The only thing she needed off of it were her driving gloves and sunglasses, yet she found herself standing there for a few minutes longer. She could feel her thoughts swim with memories of the past as it began to pour over her like a tide on the shore. It was almost hard for her to believe that the man who used to put her on his feet to sway to a simple German folk tune in one memory, was the same man who yelled at her and called her “cow legged” whenever she missed a beat in the next.

It wasn’t good for either of them to dwell, and she knew it. The weight of the memories continued to pull at her chest, however. The imminent drive to the studio was well needed.

It was commonplace in Hollywood, if you were one of the elite, to have a chauffeur and escort. Perhaps to show status, and maybe some level of protection. Annie, however, preferred the silence of driving herself to and from. In the mild atmosphere of the Southern California autumn, the wind hit her in an oddly refreshing way as she drove down the sun kissed roads. Her open-roofed royce had recently become a place of comfort for her, especially in the past week.

She sped down the road, and could already hear the commotion of rush hour traffic heading into the studio. That studio, of course, being Paramount. Maria Rose lay several miles in the opposite direction.

Maria Rose, she knew, was a studio that placed just above those on poverty row.  No where near the grand success and spectacles that were Paramount, or Metro, or United Artists. Yet nowhere near as destitute or obscure as others. Were it not for the fact that she technically hadn’t stepped down from Paramount, and thus was still receiving a paycheck from them, she would have been worrying about her new salary as much as her father had back in New York. By how easily she was let through the front gates, it seemed very few there knew she had even left.  

Of course, she wasn’t there to rip up her Paramount contract just yet. Annie parked as far away from the executive offices as she could. It would make for a bit of a walk to get to the lot she needed, but it didn’t matter.

Once she got there, she was momentarily blinded. The lighting of the largest set flashed on just as she took her sunglasses off. The fluorescent and bright key lights were something she was used to, not that it made the experience any less unpleasant.

“Well if it isn’t Baby Annie!” Called a familiar voice from that very direction. Annie rolled her eyes, and reluctantly walked toward the voice.

The owner of said voice, Reiner, hopped off set, grabbing a clearly uncomfortable Bertholdt’s arm on the way.

“I thought we agreed that nickname was dead and gone.” She responded, a hint of a snarl in her voice. Reiner simply laughed, putting his arm around her. Annie froze, her eyes narrowing and nostrils flaring.

Though Annie never enjoyed it, the three had occasionally teamed up for a performance or two back in their Vaudeville days. Reiner never failed to be the outgoing one. Audiences loved him and his boisterous brand of humor, contrasting the more meek Bertholdt, who always acted as his straight man. It came as no surprise to Annie that when they followed her into the motion picture business, they continued as a double comedy act.

“R-Reiner, I don’t think you should-”

“Where have you been anyway, Annie darling?” Reiner cut Bertholdt off, leaving the taller man slightly exasperated. “We haven’t seen you since we got back to California!”  

“I’ve been moonlighting.”

“Like you don’t make enough money here?” Bertholdt asked in a surprisingly sincere tone of voice.

She sighed, and managed to walk the three of them further away from the set and crew. “That’s none of your business.”

He looked taken aback, but accepted her answer. Reiner, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow.

“Are you even here to film, Annie?” Reiner questioned.

She managed to slip out from under his arm, and sighed. “No.”

Reiner and Bertholdt both cocked an eyebrow, and Annie averted their gaze. Suddenly, she wanted to leave. Her confidence wavered, as did her trust in the two of them. They weren’t exactly confidants, after all. They were just former co-stars that still insisted on inviting her to dinners.

She eased her mind and did what she did best. Avoided the outright truth. “I’m leaving Paramount for good.”

“Baloney!” They both exclaimed at once, their eyes bugging out.

“Did someone offer you a better contract?” Bertholdt asked, his brows knit.

“Nope. In fact, I’ll be making $3,000 less.”

Their faces scrunched in confusion. Reiner and Bertholdt were, after all, one of the few in the industry to know of her situations.

“Is...is this damage control? Something happen?” Reiner murmured.

Annie promptly shook her head. “It’s just time to move on. I’ve been here for three years, I’m interested in other things...like creative control.”

The three settled on a wall, and Annie leaned away from them.

“Creative control?” Reiner questioned, hoping to meet her eyes.

“I didn’t know it was a crime to get bored.” Her defenses went right up, something which concerned them both.

“Well, no, but, it’s not very...you.” Bertholdt confessed, tapping his chin. “I-I mean, your salary is important to you, and that’s kinda, well, it’s kinda risky?? Don’t you think?”

She bit her lip, staying silent for a moment.

“I think it’s great!” Reiner broke through the silence, his arm squeezing around Bertholdt’s shoulders. “You’re an artist, Annie! It’s good to expand your horizons!”

Annie turned, and side-eyed him. “You really think that, don’t you?”

He smiled, and nodded his head. “So which studio are you going to? United Artists?”

“Uh,” She bit her lip, turning away from them again. “Maria Rose.”

Neither of them responded immediately.

“I mean, Jean Kirschstein and Christa Lenz are there, so it’s not like it’s without its star power.”

“Uhm...M-Metro didn’t offer anything? Goldwyn? Fox?” The concern in Bertholdt’s voice made her cringe, as did Reiner’s when he added in a list of bigger studios.

“They did. I just, uh. I met a director there. A good one.” She started fiddling with her fingers, keeping her eyes focused on the concrete ground. Reiner picked up on her fidgeting, and noticed her lip catch between her teeth.

“Uh-huh.” He cocked a brow, and walked forward, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. “He’d have to be to hook you into a contract,” he spoke with a slightly knowing grin. “And a contract is all he has you hooked on?”

Her brows furrowed, cheeks tinged pink. “Absolutely. Well, that and his screenplay.”

Reiner nodded, and grinned back at Bertholdt. Bertholdt returned his grin with a shake of his head, begging Reiner not to egg her on. This, naturally, flew over Reiner’s head.

“And this, ‘creative control’ you seem to be craving, is he giving you that, too?” Bertholdt said, rolling his eyes towards Reiner’s inability to pick up on his cue.

“In fact he is.” She snapped back, turning her head at them with a small glare. She wanted nothing more than to tear the smug look off Reiner’s face. “He’s quite creative himself.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I bet he is.”

For a moment there was silence. The three stared at each other, waiting for one of them to break in and add something else. She didn’t need to say anymore. In a way, it seemed they were more aware of the situation than she was, which irritated her to no end.

Finally, Annie cleared her throat. “You two should be on set. Your director looks all balled up over there.”

When Bertholdt made eye contact with said director, it was quick to see him flinch and nod enthusiastically, holding a hand up for a pardon. “We’ll be right there!” He called out in a shaky voice. He turned back to Annie, who’s eyes were focused on the exit.

“I guess we should let you go,” Reiner said as his feet slowly began to crabwalk towards Bertholdt. “Listen if you need any help with this whole...studio decision,” he added with an all too obvious wink, “You have our numbers.”

She rolled her eyes, but thanked him anyway. As the two strolled off with a wave of their hands, Annie took in a deep breath. She stood frozen for a moment, before dusting off her skirt and walking back toward her car in the parking lot.

Annie’s destination was clear, but she chose to take the long way. The wind on her face coupled with the beautiful weather were perfect for clearing her head. The autumn leaves fell from the trees, sprinkling the ground in pale oranges and dark tans, creating a small crunch under her heels as she walked. Her car was covered in them when she stepped in.

Only 20 minutes later, the gate to Maria Rose studios was right ahead of her. While prestigious in its own right, the grounds were definitely smaller and less kept together than Paramounts. However, she wasn’t there to think of her choice in Studios, as that decision was made. She wasn’t there to film either. She walked into lot 104 with a new found, and mostly faked, sense of confidence and purpose.

All around her were the sounds of hammers hitting nails, and musicians tuning their instruments as actors prepared for their scenes. Not for her movie. Towards the back she could see a quaint Victorian bedroom set still in its early stages. The sound of a squeaky violin echoed through the studio, causing her to wince, but not lose focus as she continued to look over the basic set.

In front of it, Erwin Smith conversed with the tired looking cinematographer. Eren Jaeger helped a carpenter as he fixed the foundation of the set. If Eren was there, she knew Armin wasn’t too far away. As expected, he was standing toward the back of the set, planning the positions of the beds with his designer. His voice was as clear as day, and it made her heart pound in her ears as she heard him speak.

“I believe the bedside table should be to the left,” He spoke, trying his best to sound authoritative. It was then that it hit Annie how much she missed hearing his voice that past week. And she was in trouble for that feeling alone. She knew her trouble was continuing to bubble up as Armin caught eyes with her. “Ann- I mean, Ms. Hart! I- uh.. It’s nice to see you! I didn’t expect you to come in today.”

He had, however, expected her yesterday. Faking a cold is easy when it’s your job for a living. “I need to talk to you.”

Her harsh tone was accidental, and she winced when she noticed the nervous look on his face. “I...okay. I’ll be right back.” He mumbled to the set designer before hopping off stage. “It seems your cold went away,” He said to her quietly, obviously knowing that there hadn’t been one in the first place.

“I’m a quick healer.” She added in, before tugging him by the hand toward one of the lots several empty dressing rooms. She closed the door behind them, being as discreet as possible. Luckily for her, no one on a film set paid attention to the world around them when filming was in progress.

“Why are we in here?” Armin stammered as his hand wrung the bottom of his shirt.

She struggled to look him in the eye. The two were chest to chest, a sight which was certainly familiar to the both of them. “To talk about the inevitable.”

Swallowing the lump growing in Armin’s throat, he believed he knew exactly what she was referring to, but he had to ask. “What inevitable, Annie?”

Her face remained straight, hard, and unfocused. As opposed to the pounding of her chest and clamminess of her hands. “I don’t suppose you think a necking session with your leading lady is a normal, everyday occurrence in this business, do you?”

“Well I know that’s the bunk… I see where this is going.” He had started to trail before trying to meet her eyes again, noticing she still was avoiding his gaze.

She took in a gulp, and was silent for another moment. Then Armin heard something he hadn’t expected. “...I’m really sorry.”

His brows knit, and it was then that she was finally able to meet his eyes. “I should be sorry, Annie. I knew I was taking it too far, and we should’ve stopped.”

“You think I wanted to stop, did you?”  His cheeks started to burn pink at the memory, and he shook his head a tad to keep himself focused. “If you recall, it was me who pulled you back in. I would have been perfectly happy if you took me right there on that desk, kid.”

Armin shuddered a bit at her words and rubbed at his cheek to keep his blush down, embarrassed by how easy her words took his mind down the rabbit hole. “A few more minutes and I would have.” He replied after a deep breath, his voice steadying.

“It’s a damn shame you didn’t, frankly.” Annie’s stomach was doing flips. At any moment, she knew her confident facade could crumble. Armin met her gaze with such an intensity, she could feel the heat pulse between them.

“I’d have to agree with you, Ms. Leonhardt. Damn shame indeed.”

“The bite on my neck’s been hard to cover up. Thank you for that.” Annie managed to keep her face straight even as she heard Armin’s laugh.

“I could say the same. However, I’d rather like to mention how I can’t get those pretty noises out of my head, nor the feeling of your hands.”

She found herself fidgeting with the fabric of her skirt. The memory of his hands feeling up her thighs and ass made her face heat up in an instant. It was almost becoming too much.

“Do you want to kiss me, Mr. Arlert?” She asked, keeping her voice level at her usual melodious monotone.

“I want to do much more than kiss you, Annie,” He answered honestly, taking a quick breath. “But only if it’s something you want.”

There weren’t any words left for her to say. Annie tugged Armin down by the tie, anxious to meet his lips again. He quickly went to hold her face as her arms snaked around his waist, pressing him tightly against her. With their breathing somewhat labored through the intensity of the moment, when they found themselves finally lips to lips, an electricity surged through their touch. Armin’s hands brought her closer, his lips firmer against hers, yet, she began to melt like chocolate in his palms.

It didn’t take long for their hands to shift, hers, tangling into his blond locks, and his, gripping her hips and pulling them closer to his own. His hands seemed to gravitate lower, something which amused Annie to no end. As she slipped in just enough tongue, she found herself grinning. His own lips were curled at the ends, just as he gave a good hard squeeze to where his hands had dipped without her complete knowledge. Her gasp and whimper, which he swallowed eagerly, only spurred Armin on, prompting the air around them to grow thicker, like butter. It was suffocating, but neither could get enough.

Where her mind was a mere 30 minutes ago, none of that mattered. All that mattered was how long it would be before they inevitably had to part until their next meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit short, but in my defense, the semester is over in two weeks. That means finals are upon us, my dears. Pray for me.  
> Anyway, comments are encouraged! 
> 
> Historical and Slang notes:  
> >Wallace Reid: Pretty self explanatory in story. He was a very popular leading man who met a rather sad and unfortunate end in 1923 after a very long and hard battle with morphine addiction.   
> >The censors: Each state had a motion picture censor board, each with their own regulations. In one state you couldn't show naval, in one you couldn't show ankle or allude to something like pregnancy or illegitimacy.   
> >"Ich bin sehr beschäftigt": "I'm busy."  
> >"Ach du meine güte": "Oh my god." Use it, it's very fun to say.


	6. Pomade and Powder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smile for the camera.

Erwin Smith’s name had become big for many reasons, not the least of which being his ruthless, yet almost gentlemanly tactics in business.

Among his employees, he was known as “The Commander.” He drove up and down the rows of studio lots any time, any day, without warning. He was never early, and frequently late. Erwin simply arrived when he saw fit.

“Get your shit together bubala’s, I can hear the commander driving up,” Levi would tease at the sound of Erwin’s distinct automobile. His Ford was a leftover of the war that took his right arm, and no one quite knew how he managed to keep it with him. He used it to his advantage, though. He would walk out, sometimes in his old uniform, and greet his employees with a great sense of professionalism, but only to a point. Levi, for example, was someone he was incredibly casual with, to the point of jealousy from others.

Maria Rose was a studio on the brink when he took over before even turning 30.

By the time he _was_ 30, he was a millionaire.

Supplanting the old producers was easy enough, as the studio was all too ready for a change. His first course of action was to buy a theater in New York, and putting someone he trusted from his staff in charge of it. Mike Zacharius had gained an absurd amount of wealth from this, something Erwin predicted off the bat.

Now the hard part would be gaining the respects of the executives of the larger, more astute studios, and the trust of the banks to gain funding.  

Despite his relative youth and inexperience, he mingled with the likes of Zukor, Loew, and Goldwyn with almost a scary amount of ease. Through sheer force of will, and a few shady business deals that may or may not have happened, Maria Rose went from poverty row to relatively well respected in a manner of a year and a half alone.

They could only assume he gave ‘em the old razzle dazzle.

Annie, however, never found Erwin Smith to be that imposing. In fact, it was hard for her to find any bigwig Hollywood producers intimidating. Not when she’d been dealing with someone far more daunting most of her life. It was a strange thing, she realized, that the only (technical) higher up to really shake her in any way was none other than Armin Arlert. Annie’s director, yes, and whether she could effectively call him her boyfriend was another problem in itself. Scrawny, pale, soft spoken Armin Arlert. Who also happened to be a great kisser with a silver tongue. The more she thought about it, the more self conscious she became.

“So you’ll be accepting no less than $400,000 a year, plus 10% of your films’ earnings,” Erwin tapped his chin as he read the contract they negotiated together out loud. On the wall, Annie noted his prosthetic arm hanging from a hook. “With the expectation that you star in at least two to three films a year with the director of your choice, but a script of theirs…”

Annie crossed her arms, and remained silent, lips pressed into a straight line as she waited for him to finish. She was still shocked they even agreed to pay her that much, considering Maria Rose, while respected, was still up-and-coming. Christa and Jean were hard enough to keep on the payroll. Annie had originally bargained for $550,000, the same as her previous contract. Needless to say, it was shot down fast.

They must have had a lot of faith in Armin’s film, she figured, or else they’d have placed her in a much safer production. They’d lose much more that a mere $400,000 if it failed, and Erwin Smith knew that well. She also figured, were that the case, they obviously didn’t know about the ending Armin was writing together with her. Surely the board would have something to say about Annie, of all people, being portrayed as a killer. Even in self defense.

Waiting for Erwin to finalize their agreements made the air thick as he read silently instead. Her feet felt like heavy weights on the hardwood floor, her heart racing as she could hear the minutes tick by. No, it wasn’t Erwin himself that was daunting. It was the entire situation. Her new paycheck was far lower than she expected, at least compared to paramount, but what would it look like if she crawled back to her previous studio as a result? Back to the mold of those type casted films all over again?

It must have been a good 10 minutes before she finally heard his voice break through the air once more.

“Sign here on the dotted line,” Erwin pushed the pen and paper toward her, the softest hint of a smile on his face. “Then here on the bottom.”

Annie took in a deep breath and picked up the pen, hesitating a moment before it made contact with the paper. “...Where is it?”

“What?” He questioned, knitting his brow.

“The morality clause.”  

He blinked a couple times. “You haven’t done anything to warrant one, Ms. Annie.”

She stared at him for a moment, and took in a deep breath. “Right….It was mandatory for Paramount…” Annie commented as she signed the contract, happy to at least get it out of the way.

“You don’t have to worry about that unless you give us reason to. And it’s safe to assume you won’t, am I right?”

Annie swallowed whatever was in her throat and looked up at him, their eyes holding for a second too long, just long enough for it to get uncomfortable. She didn’t know what it was about his tone, but she didn’t like it. “Of course, sir.”

“Good.” Erwin flashed Annie a curt, almost mocking grin as he extended his hand toward her. “It goes into effect officially on December 1st.”

* * *

“Quit wiggling around, powderpuff, or I’ll end up stickin’ ya.” Ymir snarled, three pins between her teeth. Christa stood uncomfortably on a small wooden platform, not helped by the low heels on her feet. She looked just about ready to kick Ymir in the face, but she obeyed this time regardless. The white nightgown Christa wore already passed her toes, Ymir having obviously overestimated how much fabric she’d need for the costume.

“Maybe a little extra length is a good thing.” Mikasa observed as she stood off to the side, having been volunteered with the duty of holding Ymir’s pin cushion. “Her character’s supposed to be a ghost. It might add a more unearthly-”

“HA! Who’s the costumer here, Mikasa, hm?”  

Mikasa followed Christa’s example and simply glared. In the stuffy atmosphere of the studio during a busy midday, it was difficult for anyone to stay completely civil.

She turned her attention to Eren. “Shaking the radio isn’t going to make it work any better, you know.”

“It’s the last game of the World Series, Ruth is up to bat, it’s the eighth inning, and the Yankees are behind. I’m not missing this!” Eren begrudgingly stopped beating the thing and took his seat again. Around him was a group of various members of the film crew. It was hard to tell whether they were all from Armin’s. The men and women stood in anticipation as the announcer’s enthusiastic voice came out of the speaker.

_“And the pitcher has been switched out. Top of the 8th, one out, No home runs. Giants lead 4-1.”_

Jean listened best he could as he stood on his own platform. His fists were clenched, anxious for the outcome. “Come on come on, hit it out of the- YES! YEEEES! ATTABOY, FUCKING YEEEEEES!”

Ymir cringed as practically everyone around her erupted into cheers. Especially jarring was Jean’s ability to throw his hands up in his supposedly too-tight costume.

“RUN TO HOME BAMBINO, LET THOSE FUCKERS EAT DIRT!” Eren yelled as the ever growing crowd listened to the live broadcast. It was a sound Mikasa was used to, and even quite fond of. Ymir, on the other hand, furrowed her brow and shot a look at Jean.

“Kirschtien, I swear to fuckin’ god, if you rip even a stitch of that jacket, I will jab you in the side with a pin.” She snarled, nostrils flaring as she met his eyes. Jean’s attention was too invested in the game being broadcast on the radio.

“Did someone else just get to home?!”

“Sssshhhh, listen, damnit!”

_“I don’t believe it! October 15th, 1923, is a date that will go down in history for the New York Yankees, and perhaps all of baseball! I’m amazed, folks! After trailing behind for seven innings, they actually-!”_

Static.

“Ah, Futzin’-!” Eren snatched his flat cap off the top of his head and slammed it to the ground. An action which was understood by all around, who shouted and grumbled along with the very vocal Eren and Jean. Eren tried hopelessly to shake and hit the radio, all the while grumbling about how he should have expected this when they came out west. Not that it made it any less infuriated. “You piece of cheap shit, I’m using you for kindling you damn scrap fucker I swear I outta-”

“Eren. Calm down and mind your mouth.” Mikasa’s stern voice broke through Eren’s exasperated yelling. All around were both impressed and afraid at her ability to shut him up so quickly. Eren’s lips pressed into a straight line, his furrowed brows being the best indication of his annoyance as he continued to fiddle with the radio.

Truly, Mikasa was a patient woman.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a blonde blur walk out from behind another set. The man of the hour, their esteemed director, who should have been there a half hour ago, Armin Arlert, had hair that looked like a dandelion. His tie lay loose out of his waistcoat and over his shoulder, something which the usually tidy Armin would notice before he walked in front of company.

“Armin, is it windy outside?” Ymir questioned with a sly grin, having caught a glimpse of him as he drew closer to the set. His face heated up, and he paused for a moment.

“Uhm, no. Not at all.” Obviously, he hadn't quite noticed how much Annie had messed up his hair while they were...saying good afternoon. He pulled at a tuff and sighed.

Mikasa, ever caring, put down the pin cushion and moved toward her purse. “Come here, Armin, I’ll fix you up.”

He sulked over to her, trying his best not to look around the set to see any wandering eyes. Mikasa redid his tie, stuffing it into the front of his waistcoat before pulling out a tin of pomade. Armin’s surprisingly thick blond hair was always a bit of a pain to slick back to begin with.  

“How are the costumes coming along?” He asked with a forced smile as Mikasa pushed back his bangs. “I, uh, I came before the photographer, right?”

“Mhm. You’re fine. Ymir’s just doing some hemming.”

“And I would love to get done with it, but your leading lady is M.I.A!” Ymir stood up and stretched, pushing Christa off the platform with a light tap on the bum. Christa was more than happy to move on to hair and makeup, where they were at least less brash than the other woman. Not, of course, before pulling Ymir down and whispering something to her that made the corners of her lips curl up. Christa pushed her away and moved along.

“Mr. Arlert, you look a little red,” Christa knit her brows, and pat him on the shoulder. “Are you alright? If you’re truly sick, you shouldn’t be here!”

“You know I said the same thing, but he just doesn’t listen,” Everyone’s heads snapped up to see Annie walking towards them, looking pristine in her light pink frock. Armin’s brows furrowed. How she was able to come out of such an intense...greeting, with not a single crumpled fabric or hair out of place, was beyond him. It was as impressive as it was a slight turn on. “You’re a bit stubborn, kid. How admirable.”

“Thank you for deciding to grace us with your presence, Ms. Annie! Now get your ass in your act two costume! It’s hanging on the rack over there.” Ymir spoke with a forced friendly inflection while aggressively shaking a clearly unamused Annie’s hand. “If it doesn’t fit, I might snap a neck…”

Annie graciously did as she was told, grabbing the dress and walking into the nearest dressing room. Of course, not before meeting Armin’s eyes. She didn’t change much in her expression, but Armin noticed a flash in her eye that made his heart skip.

“Armin!” He heard Eren’s loud voice call from three feet away. “You’re a genius, right? Care to fix the radio?”

Armin sighed, and moved on over to the group the moment Mikasa was done fixing him. He bent down, and began fiddling with the dials. “I’m a director, not a mechanic…”

“Eh, you’re a very gifted youth. That’s what our teachers used to say!” Eren pat his back, Armin’s annoyance flying blissfully over his head.

 _“Top o….ankee’s leading...up to ba…Strike out!”_  

The entire area started cheering the moment the radio was back on. Armin quietly walked back to where Mikasa stood, and was greeted with a sight that made him perk right back up.

He remembered seeing the design of Annie’s costumes. Hell, he discussed them with Ymir the day she walked on the two. But seeing Annie wearing them in person? She looked downright...cute.

“The poke bonnet is way too much.” She grumbled, adjusting it on her head the best she could. Her pale blue frock, which reached just about to her ankles, reminded him of the things his mother wore in the the 1910s. No, earlier than that. Practically Victorian. Annie pat down on the skirt and put her hands on her waist, surprised at how fitted it was. At least, compared to the washboard style that was in. The 1910s dress mixed well with a bonnet that was at its peak in popularity around the 1850s. An odd choice on Ymir’s part, but he rather liked it. It left the time period more ambiguous, exactly as he intended.

Annie walked over to him, awkwardly wobbling in the obviously ill-fitting shoes.

“I think it’ll look adorable once you wear the wig, too.” He smiled, tugging at the ribbons. Annie scowled at him, and promptly removed the bonnet from her head.

“I never agreed to a wig.”

“Your bobbed hair doesn’t exactly fit. We’re giving you Pickford curls!” He chirped, as if she wasn’t glaring daggers at him. Annie’s efforts to frown came off more as a pout, making Armin smile wider. Christ, you’re cute.

She’d found it more difficult to frown at him recently, anyway. “Fine. I expect a raise then.” She shoved the bonnet onto Armin’s head, laughing softly as she tied the ribbon under his chin, completely ignoring his lighthearted protests.

“A-Annie! Come on, it doesn’t look as cute on me!”

“Bushwa, you just need a little more rouge so it doesn’t drown out your cheeks.”

It was hard to even focus through his own fit of giggles, but Armin finally managed to grab her wrists and push them away. God, he was so tempted to kiss her right there. Especially as their eyes met and she drew so close. Everyone would be too distracted by the radio, anyway. Everyone, that is, except Mikasa, who cocked an eyebrow when she noticed them out of the corner of her eye.

Armin cleared his throat, and let go of Annie’s wrists. She, in turn, grabbed his sleeve, dragging him away from the crowd and toward the back of the set.

There were very few secluded spots one could find on a film lot. Especially as several pictures were being filmed at once. There were the occasional costume closets and dressing rooms, but how often those were occupied out weighed how often they were empty. Annie was just lucky their living room set was placed near the back wall.

Armin barely had time to process their location before Annie’s lips were against his. He quickly reciprocated, smiling against her lips as his hands cupped her waist.

“I’m impressed with your ability to clean up so quickly.” He said, leaning his forehead against hers.

“I’m impressed with your ability to hold back.”

His hands moved to grope her ass. “It’s important to remain professional on set, isn’t it?”

“Ah, well if that’s the case, you’re doing a pretty poor job right now.”

“You were the one who led us back here where no one could see, Annie.”

“I never said _I_ was doing a good job of it, did I, Mr. Arlert?”

He furrowed his brow, a grin still on his face, and stole another kiss. The two lightly swayed together as they stood. “Alright, games aside, I would actually like to ask you something before you twenty-three skidoo on out of here.”

“And what would that be?”

“I want a date. A proper one. Let me make you dinner tonight. I mean...if that’s okay.” Armin’s cheeks went pink as he looked down and scratched one with his index finger.

“....Ah.” Annie knit her brows, though practically nothing came out when she opened her mouth to respond.

Armin sighed, as he expected about as much. “Listen, I’m not a sap. I know you’re too scared to go on out and be public. That’s easy enough to see. And I respect that. Really, it must be hard having a career that is based so much off of the public’s perception of you.” He noticed Annie’s eyes shift to the side, her face returning to a neutral expression as she gulped and listened. “And...well, I have no problem with it. But the extent of our relationship being sneaking around and necking behind closed doors? That doesn’t sit well with me. It makes it all seem like a cheap thrill, and that’s not what I want. Not with you.”

Her arms were still tight around his neck, not showing any signs of loosening up. Armin’s hands moved back to her waist, holding it far more gently. He could hear her whisper, “I don’t want that either.”

“So, I figured if you don’t want to go to a busy restaurant alone together just yet, how about we stay home alone where no one can bother you?” He smiled warmly at her, hoping to meet her gaze again. Sure enough, her eyes met his with a small twinkle.

She bit her lip, fingers playing with the back of his collar. “...I can’t cook.”

“ARLERT, where are you?” Armin jumped at the shout of his name, especially since he couldn’t recognize the voice.

“I can, though. I promise, I’ll cook for you.” He spoke fast, anxious to get her answer. “Just swing by Jean’s tonight, I’ll make sure everyone is occupied. O-Or I could go to your home!”

Annie took in a gulp. “....My place.” She parted from him, but not before stealing a final, long kiss. “I’ll see you at nine.”

Armin smiled wide, and watched her scurry off to the dressing room where the hair and makeup artists were waiting. He hoped the blush spread all over his face wasn’t too noticeable as he walked out from behind the living room set.

An unknown, at least to him, woman crouched on the ground, setting up her rather large, expensive looking camera. No, it couldn’t have been a film camera. The light bulbs set up on the side made that obvious enough. Behind her, Erwin and Levi stood talking to one another. That is, before Armin caught Levi’s eyes.

“Ah, so that’s what a director looks like.” Levi deadpanned, his eyes pointing right at the top or Armin’s head. Armin cocked an eyebrow, the realization hitting him the moment he went to feel his head. His blushed deepened as he quickly untied the bonnet that Annie left on him. He set it down on a nearby chair, not even bothering with an excuse.

“Mr. Smith!” Armin forced a smile, and shook his left hand after making the mistake of reaching for his right.

“Armin, I’d like you to meet Hange Zoe. She’ll be doing your publicity shots.”

He turned his head around toward the camera from before, but the woman had moved. Armin’s eyebrows cocked up as his eyes scanned the area.

Not that it was necessary.

“I didn’t realize this poor little bunny was Mr. Arlert!”

Armin jumped in his place as the unknown voice from before shouted in his ear. He had no clue how or when she got there, but right behind him was the form of the aforementioned Hange Zoe. The loose brunette hairs from her messy ponytail hung in front of her brown eyes, which stared excitably at him from behind a pair of wire glasses. Behind her, a man stood holding a stack of plates for the camera. His legs looked almost too shaky for comfort.

“It’s nice to meet you, kid, I’ve been hearing some pretty swell things from the Commander over there!” She had a handshake firm enough to lift poor Armin off the ground. “You can just call me Hange, by the way, anything other than that is too formal. I’m a photographer after all, not a senator. Your picture’s in good hands with me, kid, little Christa’s and Annie’s faces are ones I’ve worked with before.”

Armin massaged his aching hand the moment she let it go. “T-That’s wonderful to hear! Actually, I’ve been thinking about asking you for advice on lighting techniques, since you’re-”

“Levi, I haven’t seen you in months! Oh, I’m sorry kid, just gimme one sec and I promise I’ll get back to you and tell you anything you want.” She walked out from behind him, followed by the shaky man. “How’s Petra and the kids? Growing strong, started school? Probably started cursing I bet?”

“...They’re fine-”

“Oh! Armin, you know, since you asked me, I did just get new light fixtures delivered! Moblit, put those plates down and follow me to the truck. We’ll be right back!” She shook Armin’s hand again with a bright smile spread wide across her face before rushing off to the lot’s entrance.

Armin stood there, stunned, before turning his eyes to the two men standing across from him.

“She’s still fuckin’ entertaining, I’ll tell you that.” Levi chuckled, before sticking his hands into his pockets and bringing out his carved pipe. “Entertaining, and out of her goddamn mind.”

“Most brilliant people are.” Erwin flashed Armin a curt grin while beckoning him closer. “I’m not just here to visit, I promise I have good news.”

Armin immediately perked up. “Oh?”

“I struck up a deal with the financiers,” Erwin led Armin away from the larger group on set, a second time in one day for the poor blond kid. “that would work towards advertising _and_ putting in the technicolor you wanted.”

“I’m certainly listening.”

“However, it would require you selling the rights to your short films to us. That way we can play them, fully credited, in front of our studios A pictures for the next few months.”

Armin nodded, and to Erwin’s surprise, without a second thought. “I kind of figured they’d be out of my hands eventually. I have no issue, as long as you let me keep at least the original negatives.”

“It’s a deal, Mr. Arlert.”

“In fact, let me keep the original negatives to all my future films as well. This one included.”

Erwin cocked a brow, hesitating for a moment before extending his left hand. Armin shook it with a wide smile on his face. “I don’t see what purpose that would serve, but if it’ll get you to agree, you can have all the negatives you want. At slightly reduced pay.”  

Armin’s smile persisted. He looked over at his set, his three actors having finally gathered for their screen tests and promo photos. “Believe me, sir, I can live with that.”  

* * *

“Is this the home of a beautiful blonde actress with a glare that could kill a man?”

“Is this the voice of a twelve year old boy scout who’s playing director and attempting to get under my garters?”

“You wound me, Annie.” Armin snickered, and greeted her with a smile the moment she finally opened the door. Annie, in turn, pulled him in for a kiss that Armin was all too glad to accept. “...Annie, are you in your pajamas?”

Sure enough, Annie’s soft pink, silk pajamas stuck out to him as alarmingly casual, at least compared to the waistcoat and trousers he was still wearing. Annie simply shrugged, and led him inside. “It’s my house, I can dress as comfortably as I want.”

Armin looked around her living room, in absolute awe of the decor, and photographs that lined the walls. She looked practically unrecognizable in a large studio portrait that hung near the fireplace. With her hands clasped over her heart, her eyes gazing longfully to the side, and golden hair that lay long and curly atop her head, she looked just as she did in 1919 when he first saw her on screen. It brought a bright smile to his face as his heart rate sped up.

No matter what, the portrait couldn’t compare to the woman herself standing before him. The short, bobbed haired, seemingly stoic, selectively professional Annie Leonhardt was the one he was glad to have met.

Annie, on the other hand, was glad he was too distracted by the various photos on the wall to see how red her face was. In truth, the moment he stepped through the door she felt terribly self conscious. Of her pajamas, of her demeanor, of her empty house. All of that she managed to push to the back of her mind as she grabbed his hand and led him toward the kitchen. The soft touch of his hands against hers was something she was almost embarrassingly eager to feel since the day he first kissed her.

Or, rather, she kissed him. Twice. Yet another thing for her to feel self conscious over. After all, it was her who constantly egged him on and tested him in order to make sure he wasn’t after that One Thing and that One Thing only.

“Your hands are clammy.” Armin commented, snapping Annie right out of her train of thought. She clicked her tongue, keeping her stare straight on.

“That’s quite a rude thing to point out to a lady.”

“Heh, sorry, it’s just...they’re not usually like this. Why are you so nervous?”

“I’m not nervous.” She muttered, squeezing his hand.

Armin decided not to push her. After all, he didn’t exactly need her vocal confirmation to know she wasn’t exactly comfortable in this situation.

“You know, I don’t suppose many journalists and photographers are going to be peeking through your windows this late at night.”

“...Hm,” She looked back at him with a sharp stare, melting the moment she saw his grin. “You know, Mr. Arlert, my last bosses tried their damned best to set me up with another actor as some publicity stunt? Several times, actually. Not just with actors, if I recall.”

“It wouldn’t have worked.” He chuckled, lacing his fingers with hers. “You’re an incredible actress, but I don’t think you’re a great liar. And you don’t have to call me Mr. Arlert when we’re alone, silly.”

“Well your average Tom, Dick, and Harry ain’t exactly as intuitive as you...Armin.” It wasn’t the first time she said his name, certainly not the last, but it still felt odd. Right, but odd. To say she had never been so, well, familiar with a director would be one hell of an understatement.  

“True, but if my intuition is right, and it usually is, you would have dropped this project weeks ago if you thought any of this was for publicity’s sake.” Armin bent down, kissing her warm cheek as he grinned. “Maybe it’s time you admit you have a crush on me.”

Annie shoved her giggling mess of a boyfriend into the kitchen, taking her rightful place at a seat on the island.

“You’re not gonna help me cook?” He asked as he began to rummage through her cabinets. Predictably, he stopped at her phonograph and record collection. Annie bit her lip and grinned. After all, she moved it there for a reason.

“Everything I touch turns to poison, I’m afraid...Do you like the selection?”  

Armin gleefully flipped through her records. “It’s wonderful! You have an awful lot of classical here.”

“It’s what they usually play when I’m filming.”

His eyes lit up as they fell upon a dusty record cover toward the back. “ _Swan Lake_ , hm? I used to know how to play the Swan Theme on the violin!”

“You like Tchaikovsky, Armin?” A soft smile grew on her lips. She leaned her chin against her palm, eyes following his every move as he took the record out of the slip cover. His enthusiasm was all too infectious. Annie could feel her face heat up again as she failed to tear her eyes away.

“Absolutely!” Armin began to crank the phonograph. “I loved his ballets. Mama used to hum them while she cleaned. That, and a lot of Mozart.” His smile became smaller, but warmer. Annie could see his memories racing as his eyes drifted off to the side. “My parents may have greatly struggled, but they were very well educated despite it all…”

“You’re certainly proof of that…” Annie found herself pointing her toes out as the music began to play, her own mind swimming in long forgotten memories. Memories of worn down pointe slippers that only just fit her feet. Of her father’s grumblings when she insisted on taking those lessons instead of something more contemporary. Of harsh hours practicing under threat of starvation if she missed her mark. _They’ll all leave, and we’ll have nothing_ , were his frequent words of encouragement.

She looked up again, only to see Armin staring back at her with a cocked eyebrow.

“Aw, applesauce, Armin. If you keep staring at me like that, you’ll make me blush.” A small grin returned to her face, widening as he walked over to steal a quick peck from her lips.

“It’ll probably take more than a couple glances to make you red-faced, doll.” He gave her ever lovey roman nose a pinch before scurrying off toward the stove. Annie, in return, lightly kicked his tush the moment he turned around.

“Did you pick up everything I asked for?” Armin called back to her, bent over as he tried to figure out her rather expensive high end stove.

“Bags are on the table. I had to sign autographs for a discount...” She began to tap her fingers on the countertop. “Are you going to tell me what you’re cooking for me, sir?”

“Simple! Kielbasa, potatoes, and cabbage.” His voice was strained as he hauled the rather heavy bags of groceries over to the counter. He peaked in, smiling as he sifted through the items inside. Especially as he noted the big bag of flour he told her to pick up. “Then you’re going to help me bake some bread.”

Annie furrowed her brows, her lips pressing into a straight line. “You must have missed the part where everything I touch turns to poison.”

“I can hardly believe that you wouldn’t be able to manage some basic kneading.” He said, yanking certain items from the bags. “If my memory can recall, I believe I experienced a fair amount of it,” he spoke under his breath, cocking a brow as he watched her expression. “Don’t worry, I can help you if you really need it.”

Annie shot him a sharp glare as she got up from her seat. Without a word, her stare barely breaking from his, she walked over behind the island and grabbed a bowl from the cupboards below. She felt a certain pair of eyes bore into her backside, and she couldn’t help but feel a small grin creep up on her face. “I may not have eyes in the back of my head, but you’re going to burn me with eyes that hot.”

“I apparently have to worry about you poisoning me, anyway.”

Her glare met his smile once again. Another wordless stride, and she was over by his side, slamming the bowl down on the counter. “Give me the damn flour, Armin.”

He passed it to her, kissing her cheek and completely failing to hold down his snickers. “Uh, Annie you can’t just dump the whole thing in the bowl.”

“Just you watch me.”

Her pout simply made his laughter harder to keep in. “Where do you keep your measuring cups?”

He just barely caught them, as she threw them directly at his face. “Haha, okay, okay! I’m sorry! Here, scootch over a bit...”

Armin carefully put the first cup in, measuring out the amount his muscle memory would allow. “Can you get me the sugar and yeast? Also, three eggs. Measure out about this much water…”

She followed his instructions carefully as he said them. Watching him work like that became oddly intriguing. The rather boyish Armin took on a new atmosphere when he was focused, something she noticed quite a bit when he directed. He didn’t become completely serious and humorless, but he became determined and fairly solidly professional when the cameras started rolling.

“Would you like to mix it, Annie?” He asked, holding out the whisk. As he once again met her eyes with that soft, goofy smile, Annie could feel her stomach flip. She found his ability to do things like that to her increasingly unfair. Especially as she herself had gone so far as to play footsie with him on more than one occasion, and both times his response was to question her motives.

 _I should be the one questioning you._ She took the whisk from him. Her actions quickly betrayed her thoughts, with Annie grabbing his arm the moment he tried to move beside her. “Stay behind me. You’re very warm.”

Armin cocked an eyebrow, but gladly complied. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her waist. His face burned a light red as his hands shook from nerves. Being this close to her made his heart and head pound, almost embarrassingly so at that point. She was so petite, more so than him, yet oddly firm. He could feel the strength in her core as he held her, a strength that only a trained dancer could possess. The record in the background turned to the waltz from Swan Lake, and Armin hummed it in her ear. “You’re going to need to hold the whisk a little tighter, but don’t tense too much, loosen your wrist. No, here let me help.”

More than content with Armin doing the grunt work for a moment, Annie leaned back against him and grinned. “I think I understand this complex and tiring skill.”

“Alright, bearcat, here you go.” He leaned his chin against her shoulder, watching her face as she continued.

Armin swayed very gently side to side along with the music, nuzzling his nose into her hair. His own overwhelming calmness in that moment rubbed off easily on Annie, who eased into the role of a baker. Well, as much as she could before she felt Armin’s lips against her neck. The air hitched in the back of her throat, and she tried to ignore the shaking in her hand with the whisk. The featherlight touches of his lips against her neck, trailing down before moving up to her ear made her stomach burn in excitement, “Armin,” she barely gasped as the whisk smacked the edge of the bowl.

“Hm?” He continued to hum as he moved up her neck and behind her ear, blowing a warm stream of air against her skin. His teeth began to tickle the shell of her ear before he was finally nibbling and sucking at her earlobe. Annie’s face grew hotter as she leaned into his touches, tilting her neck to the right in order to give him more access. She ached to turn, and kiss him slowly, to pull him into her and give in to her want for him. But, the small bites he laid across her skin were very pleasing, and she wasn’t ready to give up that affection quite just yet.

On the other hand, Armin let go so fast she barely had time to process the fact he had even stopped.

“Wha-?”

“Here, scrape the dough off the sides as best as you can. I’ll show you how to knead, and you can do that while I get everything else cooking. That okay with you, moll?” The smile on his face only did more to add to her confusion. She blinked twice, before furrowing her brows and sticking her hands into the dough.

“Real classy of you, tiger…” She grumbled under her breath, earning another snicker from Armin.

“We mustn't overdo it with the whisk. Kneading can be messy enough as it is.” Armin pat the dough down, before demonstrating the proper technique, “I’m pretty sure you’re familiar with this already, however.”

Armin absolutely deserved the thwap on the arm, and he laughed through it accordingly. He kissed her cheek again, and reached his hand into the bag of flour.

“If your hands ever get too sticky, just pat some flour on them, and you’ll be on the trolley!”

“Okay, okay, I think I got- PFFT-” Annie let out a squeak the moment Armin pat a palmful of flour on to her unsuspecting face. She turned to him, glaring daggers as he kept his focus on the pan in front of him while he whistled along with the music. Of course, Armin could only keep it in for so long before Annie saw his lips quiver.

“M-May I help you, miss?” He chuckled, a small squeal trapping in the back of his throat when Annie retaliated. “Hey, we shouldn’t be wasting that!”  
“You’re one to tell me that, Mr. Arlert?” The glare on Annie’s face was placated by the grin that pulled at the side of her lips. She took another palmful, holding it up as a threat.

“Anniiieeeeee, come on. Let’s be rational here.” Armin put out his arms in front of him, going in to grab her wrists. Annie, however, nimble and quick as she was, managed to practically slam it on his nose before he made contact. “ACK, I’VE BEEN HIT.”

“Damn right, you have.” Before he could reach into the bag, Annie succeeded at grabbing Armin’s wrists and pulled him in close. Armin struggled, but only barely. His laughter made it hard to focus, and before he knew it, Annie’s lips were pressed against his. His smiled was wide against her lips as his arms wrapped around her waist. Hers were already tight around his neck, a feeling he couldn’t help but absolutely love.

Annie gripped him far tighter than she would have ever intended. His smile was ever infectious, and once again she felt the corners of her lips pull into a grin. She kept them chest to chest, with an overwhelming urge to feel his warmth. The two were a giggling, flour covered mess, yet Annie didn’t feel foolish. She felt light. As she held him close, it was more than easy to forget the responsibilities of the demanding life she took on, even if it was just for a moment.

As giggles turned into quiet sighs, Annie felt the small of her back hit the island behind them. If they were moving, she was in too much of a daze to notice. Armin’s hands were certainly noticeable as they gripped her tush. With her help, he hoisted Annie onto the island and pressed his hips against hers.  

“Must be nice not having anything in the way.” She teased, as his hands slipped down to her garterless thighs. Armin simply smiled, and continued to kiss her in slow and relaxed motions. She pulled at his waistcoat, playing with the buttons before popping one open toward the top.

“Not now.” Armin whispered, breaking the kiss for a moment. Annie raised an eyebrow, but moved her hands away regardless. He began to kiss down her jaw and neck, making her face flush a soft pink. The single tiny noise she made when his teeth caught at her skin made him grin wide.

“Try not to leave anything too noticeable, tiger.” She murmured as she buried her nose in his hair. She was surprised, and disappointed, to feel him back away moments later. He still stood chest to chest with her, his hands slipping under her night blouse as he kept her close.

“Yet you’re the one who’s more eager to get us both out of our britches?” He leaned his forehead against hers, kissing her nose the moment her brow furrowed. “If you’re still hesitant on anything Annie, you know I’m willing to step aside and wait.”

Her grip on his neck tightened, as did her chest. She gazed off to the side a moment, something which became an easy indicator for Armin that she was either in thought or trying to avoid something. She drummed her fingers on the back of his neck, taking in a deep breath before speaking. “I’m fine. Really. I just-”

“Don’t want to get into the newspapers for all the wrong reasons? I understand.” His smiled grew warm as he continued to gaze at her, waiting for Annie to meet his gaze right back. “You know I understand. I might be a fish in all of this, but I’ve been friends with Jean long enough to hear him grumbling about what goes on behind the scenes. I’d never want to hurt your career, Annie. I admire you far too much.”

Finally, Annie looked back at him. Her face remained neutral, but Armin could swear he saw a smile bubbling up. “Don’t get me wrong, Armin, I just don’t think the executives would be too happy about me necking my director.”

“It is a bit scandalous on paper, isn’t it? Still, the public can be eased into anything. It’s not like either of us are married, and we certainly haven’t killed a girl...” He chuckled, his fingers gently resting on the skin of her lower back. Annie, however, frowned, taking in an audible gulp.

“You know, Armin, I was at that party. There was a death, but no murder. People will lie through their teeth to protect themselves and their assets, Tiger. And the public will listen to anything you print in the papers. But I don’t think I need to tell you that.” 

“No, you don’t. I guess you and I should avoid that cross country crime spree?”

“Well, if I had to get blacklisted for anything…”

A smile finally began to show fully on her face again. Annie bit her lip, and cupped his cheek as her other hand tangled into his hair. To Armin’s surprise, she went in to kiss him again, short but sweet. “You know, earlier you called what we had a ‘relationship.’”

“I did.”

“Hm. Would you consider this a first date, then?”

Armin perked up, giving her a toothy smile. “It was absolutely my intention. I don’t believe I ever hid that.”

“Mm.” Annie pulled him in for another quick kiss, before pushing him right back and hopping off of the island. “Please don’t burn my dinner.”

“I won’t, I won’t!” Armin kisser her cheek, and scurried right back to the stove. Annie, in turn, went back to kneading the bread dough that still lay in the bowl.

When she floured her hands up once again, she paused for a moment. “It’s a bit funny, Armin, but I think I do have a bit of a crush on you.”

“Really, now?” It was a fact he knew, yet his face still turned red at the sound of her voice saying it right to him. “I think I have a bit of a crush on you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, I'm really sorry for the wait! The next chapter should come out quicker, if all goes as planned! I do hope you're all having a good summer so far!   
> Have some little trivia for your troubles:  
> Armin- November 3, 1902 Warsaw, Poland  
> Annie- March 22, 1902 Munich, Bavaria, Germany  
> Eren- March 30, 1902 Brooklyn, New York, USA  
> Mikasa- February 10, 1902 Somewhere in the Adirondacks, New York, USA  
> Krista(Historia)- January 15, 1902 Chicago, Illinois, 1902  
> Ymir- February 17, 1901 Granada, Spain  
> Sasha- July 26th, 1902 Montgomery, Alabama, USA  
> Connie- May 2, 1902 Manhattan, New York, USA (Harlem)  
> Marco- June 16, 1901 Messina, Sicily, Italy   
> Jean- April 7, 1902 Staten Island, New York, USA  
> Reiner- August 8, 1900 Norfolk, Virginia, USA  
> Bertholdt- December 30, 1900 Norfolk, Virginia, USA   
> Erwin- October 14, 1891 Cork, County Cork, Ireland  
> Levi- December 25, 1892 Somewhere in the Catskills, New York, USA  
> Hange- September 5, 1893 Rochester, New York, USA  
> Marlowe- ????, 1899 Boston, Massachusetts, USA  
> Hitch- ????, 1901 Boston, Massachusetts, USA
> 
> Slang and Historical notes:  
> >Marcus Loew, Samuel Goldwyn, and Adolph Zukor were three of the biggest producers and players of the industry. Goldwyn would be the G in MGM studios, and Loew you might recognize from Loews Theatres that existed all the way up to 2006. Zukor was the founder of Paramount Pictures, though at the time it was known mostly as Famous Players-Lasky.   
> >October 15, 1923 was the first of many world series the Yankees won. The team was so good in 20s, particularly the late 20s, that they became known as "Murderer's Row"  
> >Applesauce-Flattery, nonsense  
> >Bearcat-A fiery girl  
> >Moll- Okay so I wasn't originally going to note this one, but then I read that apparently in the UK and Australia this is a euphemism for prostitute, and that's not at all what I meant here, heh. The "moll" was the gangsters girlfriend. Armin's just bein' a little shit.  
> >Fish- New comer   
> >"That Party"- I mentioned it in the first chapter notes, but Annie is referring to the party that comedian Roscoe Arbuckle threw that ended with the death of a young starlet. Did he murder her or harm her in any way? Absolutely not. Did the papers twist the story in order to sell more? You bet your bum. His career was quite sadly destroyed. The Arbuckle trials were essentially the first major Hollywood scandal, and it's a really fascinating thing to read about. Media hasn't changed much in almost a hundred years.


	7. Bright Young Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What a marvelous age we live in.

It never failed to amaze Armin as to how larger-than-life Jean’s star persona was.

Though in private, he had plenty of obnoxious and showy moments. He was always a bit understated at his core. However, that was clearly not the case as he stood outside the tailor’s, posing for cameras and signing autographs. Armin, Marco, and Eren could hear him laughing from inside the downtown LA building.

Marco sat facing the window, leaning forward with his chin on his palms. The sunlight that poured in through the storefront windows nearly blinded him and Eren, who leaned against the wall near by. Armin, however, was in an even less comfortable position.

“Keep your arms up for me, please?” The tailor asked. Armin struggled to keep his shaky arms in place, even more so as the tailor began to take his shoulder measurements.

“Sorry, I’ve never has anything custom tailored like this before.”

“Me neither! And I still haven’t since I wasn’t even invited to this damn party.” Eren spoke up, kicking off his place on the wall. He walked over and sat next to Marco, letting out a sigh. “Not like I care. More time alone with… Hey, Marco. Why aren’t you out there signing autographs with the peacock?”

Armin, careful not to move too much, turned his head toward his friends. He paid particularly close attention to Marco’s spaced out face.

“Huh? Oh-” Marco sat up quickly, glancing at Eren with knit brows. “I don’t think they’d be as interested in me. Besides, Jean really likes interacting with fans! I wouldn’t want to take that away from him.”

Eren smiled, and slapped Marco’s back. “Bushwa, you old fruit, you’re just as popular as he is! I bet anyone of those dames would fall at the chance to be Marco Bodt’s girl!”

Marco let out a nervous chuckled, and turned his gaze back to the window. Armin couldn’t help but note Marco’s body language and almost glazed over look in his eyes. He tensed, his hands tightened around the loose fabric of his pants to the point of his knuckles growing white. His face grew red, and Armin had a feeling as to why.

Eren, of course, couldn’t be bothered to see what was clearly jealousy and anxiety in Marco Bodt’s form. Especially as he once again made the mistake of bringing up Christa and Jean’s public shenanigans.

“I swear, if that Fancy Dan gets insured before I do…”

Armin wanted to say something, but he knew the fragility of Marco’s situation well enough. He thought of Annie, and her own nervous edge.

His chest tightened. Armin hadn't seen her since their last private dinner a few days prior. He bit his lip, suppressing a smile at the thought of her hands in his. Since the first one, their dinners had become frequent. Almost every night after a rehearsal, Armin slipped out of the house to catch the first cab he could get by. Some nights he simply walked the five miles to her mansion. There, he’d be greeted the same way every night. Annie, in her lounge pajamas, would tug him into the doorway, kissing him and combing her hands through his blonde hair. She would never admit it, but Armin felt a certain neediness in her kisses.

“It’s not polite to keep a lady waiting, though I’ve come to expect it from you.” She’d comment as she led him, which he would answer with a laugh and a kiss on the cheek. Armin was quite used to her sarcastic lines, and he couldn’t help but wonder what the public at large would think if they ever heard her melodiously monotone voice. He personally loved it, but he was also the first to admit he was biased in that regard. He’d wanted to hear her voice since her face first graced the screen of his local movie theater.

She was never comfortable at the stove, always taking her place at the island as Armin found new recipes to make for her. He didn’t mind. It gave them more time to talk and discuss things such as his script, or just some random thoughts that popped into their heads.

Of course, that was mostly the ever curious Armin. There were nights when he would be over the stove, a thought would pop into his head, and suddenly he was thinking out loud for a solid 20 minutes. The moment he’d notice, his face would grow red and he’d turn to look at Annie’s usually stoney face. Instead, he’d be surprised to see that a small grin graced her lips.

“Keep going,” She’d say, leaning her head against her palm. “I like hearing you talk.”

“A-Are you sure? I’m sorry, I’m-”

“A rambler? I know, tiger. But you’re always interesting. You have genuinely intelligent things to say, unlike the big headed pills at the studio.”

That never failed to make him smile. He’d go over and kiss her, and suddenly it was impossible to let go. One night they went so far as to move to the couch. She straddled over him, eager to see some skin. Armin, however, would always stop them before getting too far. He wanted anything more than that to be special. When she was comfortable enough. When she finally got over her fear of the gossip columnists, and the people who held her contract.

An actress being with her male director was one thing. He could only imagine the turmoil that would become of Marco and Jean’s personal lives if their private lives became public.

Jean himself, oddly enough, became that awkward moments saving grace as he walked back into the shop.

“Thomas! Put Armin’s on my tab, his birthday’s coming up in a few days anyway.”

“Jean, you really don’t have to-”

“Hey, come on Armin! Let a friend do something for you without a struggle for once!” Jean plopped himself in between Eren and Marco, scooting just a little closer to the latter. “It’s your first studio party. All we want is for you to make a good impression.”

“You can step down now, Mr. Arlert.” Thomas said with a smile.

“And a new suit will somehow help matters?” Armin scratched his cheek as he walked toward his three friends.

Jean remained unphased and grinned. “Hey Thomas, did I tell you Armin here is directing me in a picture?”

“Really?” Thomas answered from the backroom. “Well ain’t that the bees knees, I never woulda guessed.”

“No one ever does.” Armin grumbled, though the smile on his face remained pleasant.

“Well when you get an official studio portrait, stop down here with a copy! Autograph it, and I’ll add it to my wall!” Thomas stepped out, bill in hand, and pointed toward the back wall. Armin’s eyes went wide, though mostly over the fact that he hadn't noticed it before. Autographed photos of some of the most recognizable faces on the silver screen covered floor to ceiling. Next to Lillian Gish’s, he spotted Jean’s smiling face and almost illegible signature. Christa’s angelic image hung right below Mary Pickford, her eyes bright yet distant.

However, Armin’s eyes scanned for another face. It was surprisingly easy to find, as it sat almost near the center between Norma Talmadge and Gloria Swanson.

_Thanks for the dress, Tom._

_Best wishes,_

_Annie Hart._

Her bobbed hair indicated it was a recent portrait, and he quickly noted the lack of a smile on her face. Armin’s cheeks grew pink as his lips curled up into a smile of his own. The image was closer to that of the Annie Leonhardt he knew, even if the signature said otherwise.

* * *

Studio parties, according to Christa, were glamorous in all the most bombastic ways. Far more than any of Jean’s beachside get togethers. Armin could see that plainly before their chauffeur even drove up to the hotel. The band and chatter could be heard down the street.

And what were they even celebrating? The invitation itself said Halloween, but Armin didn’t see a single seasonal decoration or costume. Whatever the occasion, it was apparently important enough for Erwin to pull him aside and talk to him personally when he was given the invite.

“This is the first time the bigger studios have held a party and invited ours,” He’d said, his hands on Armin’s shoulders. “Do yourself a favor and turn on the charm.”

Armin was hoping to not even need the charm and avoid the press altogether.

That unfortunately was looking all too impossible, as they pulled up to a massive crowd of fans, cameras, and journalists, all at the edge of the roped-off walk way.  

“I guess no one has work tomorrow?” He just barely heard Christa snark under her breath. She looked absolutely radiant in her pale pink evening gown, her curly hair styled into a fashionable bun that was complemented by a silver butterfly hairpin. Yet, even the pound of makeup she had on couldn’t conceal the awkwardness on her face as she asked Jean for his hand to escort her.

How the two managed to pass as a couple in the eyes of the public was something Armin almost marveled at.

He noticed the fidgeting Jean and Christa did as they walked out of the limo and up the steps into the hotel. Jean's free hand was at his side, fidgeting with the bottom of his jacket. Christa found both of her hands around Jean's arm, picking at pieces of thread.

“Hey. Don’t forget your smile!” Jean had said, before the two stepped out. They were quickly lost in the flashes of camera bulbs and screaming fans, just begging for an autograph from the angelic Christa Lenz and the dashing, All-American Jean Kirschtein. Taking in a deep breath of the night air, Armin straightened out his suit jacket and followed their lead out of the limo.

 _Thanks for leaving me behind, fellas_ , he thought with a huff as he began to walk down the paved pathway. Curious, confused eyes fell on him, and his face heated up faster than his heart rate sped. He fast-walked into the venue, keeping his smile on yet his eyes down as cameras flashed relentlessly in his face.

The moment he entered the hotel lobby, his eyes widened.

Jean’s parties really were nothing but get-togethers compared to what was in front of him. Though most people found these sorts of parties to be glamorous, Armin found that to be a horrible understatement. The trumpets and drums of the band nearly blew his ears out as he stepped into the grand hotel, the room filled to the brim with familiar screen faces dressed like royalty. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes scanning the room and the sea of chatter and people.

It seemed as if the studios had rented out the entire hotel. From what Armin could see, the first floor leading from the grand staircase was so crowded, guests sat on the railing as if it were nothing. The pond in the back courtyards had men and women jumping in and out, laughs and smiling as they retrieved little trinkets their dates had thrown in. Individual round dinner tables surrounded the main dance floor, which had been set up right smack in the middle of the large hotel lobby. At the far end rectangular table, Armin could spot Erwin Smith chatting with Levi, glasses of presumably coca cola in their hands. The petite red-headed woman grabbing onto Levi’s arm and laughing along with their conversation must have been his wife. However, the stumpy figure on Erwin’s other side was someone he only vaguely recognized, though certainly not from the screen.

A loud cheer resounded from the crowd as the band started playing a Charleston, with many girls dragging their dates out onto the dance floor. He smiled at the sight, but the noise made it difficult for him to even hear his own thoughts. And just like that, Armin felt very small.

If there was ever a time he wished for Annie’s company, it was that moment, as he squeezed and pushed through the crowds to get to at least one familiar face. He kept his eyes down, more than a little conscious of the eyes of the elite that fell on him as he pressed on through.

He could barely breathe as the unmistakable smell of bootleg alcohol and perfume entered his nostrils. Whatever charm Erwin wanted him to muster up would be impossible in these circumstances as he felt bile backup into his throat.

“Armin!” A familiar voice finally broke through, grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging him out of the crowd. “Armin, you poor little bunny, ya look like you’re about to upchuck!”

Reiner Braun’s smiling face was about the happiest damn sight he’d seen so far. “I- Yes, I could use some water if that’s okay.” He chuckled, taking in a deep breath.

“Here you go, sip it slow.” He rubbed Armin’s back, handing him a glass of water right off the tray of a caterer. “I promise, it’s not alcohol.”

“Thank you, oh god…” He gulped it down, taking another look around as he finally stood in an area with enough air to appreciate. “You haven’t seen Jean or Christa by any chance? I came with them, and they left me holding the bag…”

“Funny you should say that!” Reiner said, his voice as boisterous as ever. “I just ran into Jean on his way to the dining room! Stick to walking near the sidelines and you’ll get there easily, fella. Toward the back left, you’ll know it when you smell it!”

Armin’s face brightened, and he thanked Reiner several times before rushing off in the direction of the dining room. His eyes, however, still scanned the room, hoping to catching a glimpse of Annie.

He ran into Jean rather quickly in the doorway to the dining room, nearly causing them both to jump out of their shoes. Jean more so than Armin, as he let out an honest to god screech.

“Armin! Armin, buddy, I was worried I’d lost you in the crowd, you little blonde dandelion you!”

“...Excuse me? H-Hey-!” He slapped Jean’s hand away the moment he started to rough up his gelled-back hair. Jean reacted fast, pulling his hand back and laughing far harder than he should have been.

“Y-You don’t need to flip, I wasn’t gonna do anythin’!” He bent over laughing, repeatedly scratching his nose as he straightened himself back up. Armin cocked an eyebrow as he noticed Jean’s dilated pupils. “Where’s Annie, hm, Arlert? Where’s that pretty leading lady of yours, you need someone to smooch on. I wouldn’t want you to be jealous of me and Christa! Ffffuck. Fuck I gotta find her…”

He pushed Armin out of the way, stumbling along with an odd amount of purpose in his steps. Armin stood there bewildered. _How quickly did he get drunk? Unless...no, that wasn’t alcohol. Definitely not alcohol._ Though Jean's pupils were blown wide, and he seemed incoherent, his words were not slurred, nor was he relaxed. He seemed up, very very high up.

As morbidly curious as he was to peek inside the dining room, he instead turned around and followed Jean. He sighed to himself, worry and even disappointment welling up in him as he followed on the coattails of one of the few friends he never felt a need to babysit before.

He’d almost lost him in the smoky haze and crowd again, only to be saved by Christa, who was standing right at the edge of the dance floor. She seemed rather determined to keep her back to the rectangular table at the end, even grabbing Jean and turning him around when he tried to move them, only to be met by two photographers all too ready to take their picture.

“Ms. Lenz, Ms. Lenz!” One journalist called, his pen and pad at the ready the moment Christa turned to him. The smile on her face was almost as forced as the ones Armin had seen Annie pull. Her arm hung tentatively around Jean’s waist. “The name’s Billy, of _Picture Play_ Magazine! Might I say, you’re an absolute doll tonight. Of all the starlets, our readers wanna know, Ms. Lenz, which leading man YOU would love to take home!”

Armin watched the hesitation in her face with a sort of fascination. “A-Ah! Well, sir,” Christa spoke with an almost sickeningly sweet inflection. “I do believe Mr. Kirschtein here would be all balled up and out of sorts if I didn’t say him!”

“And you had another answer in mind?” Jean laughed, pinching Christa’s cheek. The two kissed, and Armin walked away from the situation feeling just as uncomfortable as the two looked.

He searched the crowds for Annie, sighing to himself as he realized he was once again in the same place he was during Jean’s party in September. Left alone while his friends got wasted, and this time he didn’t even have Mikasa there for help. The moment he made eye contact with Erwin, he sped over, eager to be near a familiar face.

Erwin and Levi were in between lighting their cigars.

“Enjoying the spectacle, kid?” Levi asked, taking a puff.

Armin gave them a meek smile, scratching his cheek. “It’s certainly...grand. I think some people are enjoying themselves a little too much.” His eyes quickly glanced over at the dining room as actors and actress stumbled in and out, scratching their noses and laughing.

“I haven’t seen your leading lady anywhere.” Erwin commented, giving Armin a more welcoming smile than Levi. “She has a knack for hiding in plain sight.”

Armin nodded and sighed, his chest tightening as his eagerness to see her grew.

“Anyway though, Armin, I’d like you to meet an old army buddy of ours,” Next to Erwin stood a man slightly shorter, and significantly lankier, than he was. His rather unkempt hair and unshaven face reminded Armin of someone who just got out of bed. “This is Nile Dok, editor-in-chief of _Motion Picture_ Magazine. Nile, this is Armin Arlert, the youngest director I have employed, and by far one of the most talented.”

“N-Nice to meet you, sir!” Armin quickly extended his hand, his face brightening a bit at the complement.

“Nice to meet you as well,” He took Armin’s hand, though tore away just as fast. “I’ve been told you and Ms. Hart have grown well acquainted. My journalists can barely get a word out of her.”

 _‘Well acquainted,’ huh?_ “She’s very sweet and easy to get along with once she’s comfortable with you.”

“Like a stray cat. Excellent.” Nile huffed, taking a large gulp of the glass of rather obvious bootleg liquor in his hands.

Before Armin could say anything in Annie’s defense, another unfamiliar voice broke into the conversation.

“You’re Armin Arlert? Christa Lenz is in your picture, is that correct?”

Armin cocked an eyebrow, and looked over behind Nile to see the stumpy man who had been near Erwin before. “Absolutely, uh, she’s my other leading lady.”

“I see…”

“Armin,” Erwin spoke up. “This is Senator Reiss.”

“Senator?!” Armin looked on with wide eyes as the name finally matched the familiar face. Of course he’d seen him before. Plenty of times in the papers, as one of the leading advocates for the Board of Review. A leading crusader in the wholesomeness of the screen and its players.

He could only hope the senator hadn’t seen the dining room yet.

Despite that, Armin extended a hand to him as well. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

Reiss took his hand with a firm shake. “You’re new? What kind of film will you be making.”

A smile came to Armin’s face. After all, what wholesomeness could be found in a horror film ending with murder? “It’s...a drama, you see. An original.”

“Very nice. Well, I’m sure it’ll be an interesting one from a young mind such as yours.”

“I hope so sir. Interesting is exactly what I’d call it.” He and Erwin exchanged glances, and Armin realized that the only other person aware of his revised ending was Annie herself. Somehow he couldn’t wait to show them his vision of the young ingenue murdering one of hollywood's most popular leading men in self defense. After he actually filmed the scene, of course.

* * *

While everyone around him seemed to be having the night of their young lives, Armin had spent the better part of two hours walking around aimlessly. The music was pleasant to listen to at least, even if his ears were almost blown out by some of the noise. The smoky haze from everyone's cigarettes made his eyes water, but getting away from it was impossible, even outside.

He walked up the grand staircase, finding a bit more breathing room in the slightly less crowded second floor of the hotel. The crowd down below looked like a sea of smoke and fashion as he leaned against the railing. He felt an arm brush against his, and thought nothing of it, considering the still significant crowd. It took him a few seconds to look up and see what he’d been wanting to see all night. The all-too familiar and regal profile of one Annie Leonhardt- or, well, Hart, given their present company.

“I wondered where you were hiding, bearcat.” He said, the smile on his face bright and wide. Annie returned it with a small one of her own.

She stood up straight, and Armin was absolutely delighted to see her in her evening gown. Blue velvet, hanging gracefully and loose off her body, complimented by the silver diamond headband that wrapped across her finger waved hair.

“I tend to sneak in a bit late, if you haven’t noticed,” He offered his arm, and the two started walking. “The crowd didn’t eat you alive?”

“Oh, almost!” He snickered, “I’ve managed to... _mostly_ keep a low profile.”

“Jean and Christa left you holding the bag, it seems.”

“They did that the moment they stepped out of the car.”

“You poor bunny.” The small grin on her face was about the most beautiful sight he’d seen that entire evening.

“So far, I’ve been introduced to both a magazine editor and a senator. Not bad for my first studio party, eh?”

“Oh, there’s a senator here?” Annie knit her brows, her lips quivering as she contained a small laugh. “I hope he takes a liking to the cocaine bowl. No doubt they’ve moved that to the ladiesroom, hm.”

Annie led the way, walking them back downstairs.

“Ah, so that’s what’s in the dining room?”

She nodded with a chuckle and a sigh. “Welcome to the nightmares of middle America, Mr. Arlert. Jazz, liquor, dope, and actors.”

A familiar foxtrot started playing. “As if that was all. Jean and Christa...I don’t believe for a second they’re the only ones in their situation.”

Annie looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “You’re certainly perceptive. No, not at all. Remember what I told you? About how they wanted to set me up with an actor for publicity’s sake? I wouldn’t exactly be the only one benefitting. After all, he had some rumors abound about him at the time, and I can tell you they weren’t lies.”

He furrowed his brow and nodded. “I had a feeling. It’s...I don’t think Jean can keep it up for too long.”

“Just Jean?” She asked, dragging him out onto the dance floor. “Between you and me, I don’t think he’s the only one hiding something there.”

Armin looked at her for a moment, contemplating her words before he noticed what they were doing and where. His eyes widened, yet she seemed oddly calm. “Annie, is this okay?!”

“Of course, Mr. Arlert. Everyone’s dancing with everyone, what could possibly be wrong? Hold my back, please.” Her polite and upbeat tone reminded him of exactly where they were. His hands met her warm skin, causing his face to heat up and flush red. He smiled, eyes looking into hers as the foxtrot picked up its pace. “I’m glad to see you’ve improved a bit since we last danced together.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve had a lot more motivation!”

Before the song could properly end, the band stopped playing, meeting a loud groan from the people dancing. All were silenced, however, by a clinking glass from the rectangular table. Armin and Annie looked over to see the senator stand up on his chair.

“Hollywood,” He began, a smile on his face that looked too nervous for a statesman. “has been nothing but kind to me. As beautiful as the city I came in from. I was invited to this party on such a short notice, but the movie people of this town and these studios have been some of the most welcoming folk I’ve met, and I’m so honored to have met you all.”

Armin and Annie looked on with furrowed brows. He could feel her bunch up the fabric of his shirt with each word out of the senators mouth.

“I’ve seen this town be described as the evils of modern America. A town of debauchery and sin, but I’ve seen none of that here. I see a room full of bright young things, who hold the future of this country in the palm of their hands.”

He felt Annie tense, but stranger than that, he could have sworn he heard a snicker. When he peaked down at her face, she looked as focused and neutral as ever. With an audible gulp, however.

“And I aim to keep the public at ease, showing them that the only dirt in this town is the dirt from people's mouths. We’ll show them the human side of this town, and that we plan to keep their children as sober and wholesome as we have kept ourselves.”

Another snicker. This time, Armin was able to catch her just as she was able to straighten her face out once more. He couldn’t blame her even for a second. As Reiss spoke, the thoughts going through Armin’s head could be summed up as; _How blind can one man be?_

Reiss went on with his speech, continuing to congratulate them on their sobriety. Meanwhile, out of the corner of Armin’s eyes he could see at least three people passed out drunk being carried out of the venue.

“Again, thank you, and do enjoy the rest of your night.” Reiss stepped down, and was met with thunderous applause from the party at large. Again, Armin furrowed his brow, wondering just how little of the party he’d scene and just how much of the speech everyone actually heard.

“Pffffff-” Annie grasped his hand tight, and began to drag them both away from the dance floor and through the crowd.

“Annie? Are you okay?”

“Let’s get out of her, I, pfft, I think there are some empty places upstairs.” She kept her head down, one hand over her mouth as she pulled him up the stairs. The sound of chatter and music became muffled as she led him down the hall.

Armin’s heart rate sped up. The chance to be alone with her that evening was all he wanted, even if it didn’t involve a necking session. After several uncomfortable encounters, he wanted so badly to be close to her.

“I just….psht-”

Armin raised his brow, a smile growing back on his face the moment he realized what it was she was doing. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard her laugh, but lord knows he’d never heard it quite that... _enthusiastically._

She skipped the elevator, pulling him right up a second flight of stairs until they were almost out of sight.

“Armin, do you just...hhehhHAHAHA-”

Armin couldn’t contain his laughter. Not when Annie, of all people, was a giggling mess, dragging him along up the stairs and away from the large mass of people below. She was far more at ease, letting loose even more the further away from the party they got.

Before they reached the top of the stairs, Annie stopped to tug him in. For the first time that evening, the two were finally alone, and they reveled in every second of it. She smiled against his lips, the two barely stopping to breath as they laughed and kissed each other. Armin leaned back, almost falling down in an ill advised attempt to pick her up.

“Don’t die on me just yet, tiger.” She whispered, taking his hand once again and dragging him down the hall. They each checked a room, seeing if one was unlocked and unoccupied. Armin was lucky enough to stumble on one quick, and tugged Annie inside. Annie, however, took control once again, and walked him over to the bed, not even bothering to take her lips off of his.

They sat on the edge, Annie’s arms tight around Armin’s neck.

“I can’t stand parties,” Her forehead fell onto his shoulder as she continued her giggle fit. “They’re so suffocating. Everyone asks stupid questions.”

"Stupid questions from stupid people," He replied in a sing-song voice, leaning his head against Annie’s. She began kissing his neck between sentences.

“Especially when there’s a senator in the room, and suddenly everyone acts like they weren’t just snorting cocaine in the- psht, hahaha-” She bit her lip, laughing harder as she nuzzled into his neck. “I can’t do it. I can’t keep a face straight when everyone is just kissing ass like that.”

"Well, let them kiss ass. I'm going to keep kissing your cute face."

“That was so corny, let me just-” She turned back up to him, tugging Armin in for a kiss by the collar. His hands immediately moved to cup her cheeks, his hands gentle against her skin. His thumbs moved in slow circles on her cheekbones, as if he was reeling the corners of Annie's lips into a smile. Annie leaned into him, slipping her hands under his waistcoat to pull him closer.

Armin’s hands moved down from her cheeks, sliding slowly down her neck and shoulders. As Annie began to kiss down his own neck and jaw, he let out a soft gasp. He closed his eyes, the smile on his face widening at the almost ticklish sensation. Her deep red lipstick was sure to smear on his skin, a sight he’d have loved to see after. His hands were on her sides, thumbs massaging into her body through the fabric of her dress. His eyes trailed down her body, continually darting to her chest. He did his best to keep his eyes on hers. Annie noticed his glance and cocked a brow.

"Armin, have you ever seen a woman's breast before?" His cheeks flared up in a bright red, and he immediately tore his eyes away.

“No! I-I mean, sorta, y-yeah…” He nodded, biting his lips in what could possibly be the greatest half-truth he’d ever told. It’s not like his mother would ever tolerate an erotic book or magazine in their household, and it wasn’t until high school when Jean would bring them in and sneak them into Armin’s bag. But no, his first encounter came years before, when Eren and him were barely seven.

It was a memory he was fond of to a certain extent. Eren and him frequently snuck into arcades and Nickelodeons in lower Manhattan while their mothers worked in the garment district, and on more than one occasion Eren would pay for them to watch a flicker. One of those occasions Armin just so happened to pick a little kinetoscope picture named “Birth of the Pearl.”

 _“It’s a good one, I’ve seen it before. You outta check it out yourself! Come on, it’s just a nickel!”_ Eren would snicker, as he pushed the young Armin toward the lens. As Armin looked inside, he was greeted with a lovely sight as two women pulled back a curtain to reveal a closed clam. He was immediately interested, his mouth wide as it began to open up. Inside, though, was not the giant pearl his childish mind had first imagined. Not at all. There, slowly standing up, was a woman completely in the nude, her hair not even covering her bare chest.

The young Armin shrieked, backing away as Eren practically rolled on the floor of the arcade. It was one of the finer moments of their friendship.

However, in the present, at almost 21 years old, the young director still had never, in person anyways, seen a pair of breasts. He kept his wide eyes down, his face growing completely red as he fumbled with the fabric of his pants.

“I-It’s just I’ve never been with a woman, to tell the truth I’ve never been popular with them, a-and I would never be rude and peak on a dame while she’s changing like my friends would, and yeah I know I’m not exactly the most handsome fella, but I-I do like to-” His rambling was cut short when he finally looked up. “Annie what are you doing?!”

“You tell me, tiger.” Annie kept her eyes on Armin’s as she shrugged off the strap on her right shoulder to match the one she already removed from her left. Armin froze, his heart hammering in his chest. Her evening gown shimmied down to her waist, revealing the satin white step-in slip underneath.

“Y-You really don’t have to do that, I’m sorry…”

“I’m not doing it because I have to, Armin.” Her lips curled up into a grin the moment her slip and brassiere joined her evening gown. She tilted his chin, giving him a nice look of her bare chest. Armin, in return, took in a sharp inhale.

“O-Oh god…” Suddenly, his trousers felt oddly tight. His knuckles grew white with how hard his hands had balled up.

“You don’t have to just look, you know.” Annie gently took his wrist, his fist easing up as she drew him closer. She placed his hand over her right breast, earning a gasp from them both as his warm skin met hers. The pace of Armin's breathing quickly skyrocketed, biting his lip with nervousness as he experimentally squeezed. He watched as Annie's chest arched up into the touch, her eyelids drooping slowly with fluttering lashes. He tentatively lifted his other hand, glancing at her for approval before really going in.

His hands were gentle, curious, as his eyes widened. Fingertips brushed over her skin slowly, the pads of his thumbs began to move around the pale pink circle.

“Mm-haahh," Annie sighed, her head dropping to her right shoulder. Biting her lip, Annie pushed Armin's bangs out of his face. "Like what you see, tiger?"

His head snapped up to look at her, his face absolutely dazed. Armin, without hesitation, leaned up to kiss her, taking her lower lip playfully between his teeth. Annie smiled against his lips, and cupped his cheeks between her hands, effectively pulling him in as close as he could while his hands continued their ministrations.

It didn't take long for Armin to get more curious. Of course Armin enjoyed the feeling of her breasts in his palms, especially as they melted in between his fingers with every soft squeeze. Yet, Armin felt his mouth dry, as he ached to taste her skin. His eyes met Annie's, and he moved his lips to her neck. He was pleased to get the cooperating head-tilt, and as his lips began to go lower, he could feel her chest rise and fall quicker.

Kissing along her collarbones, Annie began to thread her fingers into Armin's hair. He couldn't help but smile against her pale porcelain skin. She seemed to love tugging at his hair, and Armin was more than happy to let her continue as his lips pressed down her sternum.

"Oh," Annie breathed, feeling heat swell in her chest. One thing Annie could say about Armin Arlert, was that he was always so very, very intimate and gentle. She knew had anyone else been there, they wouldn't be so ginger with her, and the feeling of the slow kisses on her body made her burn all the way through her skin.

"Is this alright?" He asked, his hands cupping under her breasts, pushing them up lightly. Once he got the approval nod, he began to kiss slowly over her breasts. Teeth grazed her skin, and her breath caught with a raspy squeak. He was starting to suck little tiny marks, teasing around the perks of her breasts. She clutched the sheets under her with one hand as the other stayed tight on the locks of his blond hair.

The way his tongue teased the underpart of her breast was causing her thighs to clench. Armin noticed this, and grinned against her skin. He was starting to kiss up, closer and closer to where she truly wanted his mouth. He was panting as hard as she was, and the air temperature changing around the pink nubs so quickly caused goosebumps to rise on her skin.

Well, that was until-

“Really, Historia, I didn’t know you were this eager for a petting party?”

“Shut up, I just- Ah, I just need this right now Ymir, please…”

“Oh, I wasn’t complaining, powderpuff! Just hope no on-”

The moment the doorknob turned, Armin grabbed Annie and hugged her tight to his chest in order to cover hers.

Four pairs of eyes met, all wide and silent. There in the doorway the two women stood, Ymir’s mouth just parting from Christa’s neck, and Christa’s hand slipped under the skirt of Ymir’s dress.

“...”

“....”

“...”

“....”

Ymir proved to be the one with the biggest mouth.

“Oi, get your own empty hotel room you damn kids.”

Armin was too stunned to respond eloquent.

“B-But we were here first??” He stammered, cocking an eyebrow as his eyes met Christa’s. Her face went from bright red to a sinking pale in a matter of moments. Annie, however, remained silent.

"Maybe we should choose another room, Ymir. I mean, this place obviously has plenty. Leave these two to continue their discussion."

Another silence.

Armin could feel Annie’s nails dig into his skin as it went on. Finally, Ymir backed down and nodded.

“...I won’t tell if you won’t tell.” Christa said before turning around.

Armin nodded, flashing her a sincere grin. “Of course.”

"You'd think after the last time I caught them they'd've learnt some self control-" Ymir spoke to Christa as they left, the door swinging closed behind them.

Armin and Annie let out their held breaths at once, loosening their grips on each other.

"Is it just me, or don't you think Ymir needs to learn how to knock?" Armin teased, smiling sweetly at the tense Annie. However she wasn’t tense for long.

“...pffffft-” She began to laugh again, and hid her face in the nook of his neck. “And how. Definitely gonna still imagine her face when I swing the axe."

Armin cracked a laugh as well, hugging her tight as he leaned his head against hers. They stayed like that for a moment, catching their breaths slowly with wide grins stretched across their cheeks. Armin's toothy smile relaxed into a small grin, and he stole a gentle kiss from Annie's lips. "Let's cover you back up? I think our mood is completely soiled for now."

She nodded, clearing her throat as she sat up. Armin helped her bring her undergarments back up, though he could only watch as she fastened everything back into place.

“You look beautiful tonight, you know.”

Annie’s eyes had been focused on the bed when he said this, her cheeks going pink as a familiar warmth built up in her chest. No matter the situation, Armin always seemed to make her feel warm like this. It made her feel like a damn fool. The warmth that spread in her chest started going to her head, making her feel light. Cloud 9 was where she was standing, and a part of her had no reason to return to Earth.

She bit her lip, slowly looking back up at him. “Armin, sleep with me tonight.”

“W-What??” Armin's eyes widened, brows furrowing in a slight panic.

“Uh...shoot, no I mean…” She took in a deep breath, groaning into her hands before looking back at him with deep red cheeks. “Stay with me at my mansion tonight. Let’s just...ditch this. Lay in bed and talk about nothing's until the morning sun hits?"

Armin’s face softened, his hands reaching for hers as his heartbeat sped up once again that evening. “I'd love nothing more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every 20s au needs an obligatory party chapter, am I right? The movie industry in the early 20s was certainly a tense place.  
> Anyway, comments questions and the like are encouraged! I hope you've enjoyed so far!
> 
> Historical and Slang notes:  
> >Dope- General term for drugs.  
> >Yes there were actual instances of parties having complementary bowls of cocaine in the bathroom and dining rooms. Drug use was unfortunately very common in the movies and- Wow, things have not changed much, have they?  
> >Step-in- A type of undergarment that was basically a type of slip, kind of looks like a romper to me if you google pictures of them.   
> >Board of Review- Exactly what you'd think. Reviewing the films to make sure they were "appropriate" for audiences, getting their endorsement was certainly a good thing for a films financial success.  
> >Nickelodeon- Not the cartoon channel! These were the original movie theaters, with an admission fee of just one nickel!  
> >Kinetoscope- an early motion picture exhibition device. Was designed for films to be viewed by one individual at a time through a peephole viewer window at the top of the device.  
> >One last thing! More of a recommendation than a note, but if you're an old person like me and enjoy watching historical documentaries for fun, there's an incredible one from the 1980s called "Hollywood: The history of the American silent film." Exactly what it says on the tin, though I'm recommending a specific episode. Episode 3 is all about the scandals and censorship, and has stories from the stars themselves about what went on! Very fascinating and entertaining, if you're interested it's on youtube!


	8. Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who stole your heart away?

November, 1923

He woke up to California sunlight in his eyes, and Vivaldi playing on the phonograph downstairs.

Annie’s bed was far too comfortable to tear away from. Especially after weeks of sleeping on one of Jean’s spare beds that must have been left from the Civil War. It sure felt and smelled like it, at least.

Her side of the bed was still warm, and he looked over to see her fast asleep.

Armin barely even _remembered_ falling asleep. The two stumbled out of Annie’s car laughing and hanging off each other, rushing up to her room while Annie pulled him in for kisses at random intervals. They were cool, however, at least compared to how they were in the hotel room. She pushed him onto the bed, and jumped right on top before he even got the chance to sit up. She nuzzled into his neck, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Much better…” She breathed, squeezing him tight and kicking her heels off.

The two stayed like that for practically the entire night, nuzzling into each other and talking the night away. It must have been for six hours, but it felt like nothing. There was never enough time with Annie in Armin’s mind.

A smile pulled at his lips as he finally moved to roll out of bed.

"Mmmnn..." Her sleepy groan made Armin's heart flutter. He turned to glance at the sleeping form, her body curled into the bed, tugging her pillow down to her body as she wrapped herself around it. "Why are you getting up? It's early still. Armin, the bed is cold without you."

“This is really late for me, bearcat.” He chuckled, as Annie rolled over to lay her head on his chest. There was no getting up now. He wrapped his arms around her tight, giving her a quick squeeze as he kissed her forehead. “You’re awfully cute, you know?”  
“Mmmhhrmm…” She eloquently replied. A soft smile spread across Armin’s face. he laid back for a moment, running his fingers through her soft blonde hair and listening to the music play from downstairs.

“Wait. Did you get up to put on music?” Armin cocked an eyebrow and looked down at the practically already sleeping Annie. Her brows furrowed, and slowly she lifted her head up to look back at him.

“No, it was probably my housekeeper- oh.” She began to sit up, giving Armin a nice view of the silk pajamas he couldn’t recall her changing into. In the strip of light that came from the curtains, Armin could really see the small definitions of her face. His eyes lingered before they fell to her body, her back bone barely showing between her shoulderblades. She was muscular, but still thin, and he could see her lithe form very clearly in the light. “This might look a little funny, huh?”

Armin raised his brows, smiling at her as she straddled over him and played with his hands. “Well, if you’re trying not to raise suspicions, this isn’t the position to be in.”

Her sleepy face cracked a grin. “I don’t care right now.”

“How risky.”

“She’s not exactly a gossip.” He raised a brow, and let his tongue drift to the corner of his lip for a moment.

“Even for the right price?”

Annie chuckled, and leaned down to steal a kiss from his lips. “I mean, it’s not like this is a common occurrence. Her walking in on me straddling over some random stranger. Plus, I’m the one who pays her.”

With that, Annie rolled out of bed, taking a long drawn out stretch. “Come on, tiger, make me breakfast.” Armin let out a bellowing laugh, his hand clasping over his mouth to muffle it.

“Isn’t it your turn to cook for me, Ms. Leonhardt?” Annie began to laugh, rolling her eyes as she shook her head.

“Don’t you listen to me, Mr. Arlert? I can only make poison. I’ve grown too attached to you to let you die by my own two cooking-deficient hands.”

“Oh? You’ve grown attached to me?” He said with a shit-eating grin. Annie’s face immediately soured as she furrowed her brows.

“Well, I certainly don’t let every man grope my breasts.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Armin felt his face burn as Annie’s conniving grin grew. Though he gladly grabbed her hands as she put them out for him to grab. As she hoisted him up, she pulled him into a kiss, smiling against his lips. His hands drifted to cup her waist, pulling her in a bit closer. The soft happy sigh Annie let slip from her mouth made Armin grin wider. “What?”

“You’re adorable.” Annie could feel her cheeks begin to burn, as her eyes rolled towards the left. Armin tapped her chin upwards with his fore-knuckle. She turned her eyes back to him with a questioning glance.

“What?” She asked, and before she had a chance to follow-up, his lips were on hers once again. Her arms moved to wrap around his neck. Annie could feel heat begin to blossom across the expanse of her chest. The butterflies in her stomach were fluttering wildly. “You like to do that,” she whispered against his lips with a gentle sneer.

“Do what?” He asked before stealing another peck.

“This.” She glanced down and back up at him. “You like to ruffle my feathers.” Armin felt himself begin to laugh, his hand moving to cup her cheek.

“It doesn’t take much, does it?” He asked. Annie cocked a brow, staring at him for a moment before cracking a grin and a chuckle.

“You tell me. How much effort are you putting in?” She ran her fingers into his hair at the back of his neck. The little shudder she got out of him was enough to make her eager to do it again. Annie began to pull him down into a kiss, eager to get more reactions from him when a third voice broke in.

“Ma’am?” Her housekeeper knocked on the doorframe, her face unphased by the sight of the two in the room. Armin, however went red almost instantly, turning his face away in an attempt to hide. Annie could feel herself become annoyed at the intrusion, but plastered a smile onto her face as she turned to her housekeeper.

“Yes?”

“Uh, your mail came in. I set the bag on the kitchen table.”

Annie was a wonderful actress, she truly was. But she had a terrible time trying to hide her irritation, Armin noted. Her smile was slightly murderous. Now, he wasn’t off-put by it at all. In fact, he thought he could use it in a movie of his down the line, but he could see why someone would be. He kept down the bubbling laugh in his stomach as the housekeeper shook with fear. As Annie turned in his arms to face the housekeeper, he happily moved her hair out of his way, off to her left side. His lips tenderly brushed against her skin before he whispered, “Breathe” into her ear.

“Thank you, Hannah.”

Once the maid exited the doorway, Annie squeezed Armin’s hands. Armin kissed her neck again gently before allowing her to turn around. “Now, where were we?”

Of course, the moment he went in to kiss her lips again, he was thwarted.

“Also, Ms, you got two phone calls this morning.” The huff that came from Annie’s lips tickled Armin’s.

“Thank you, Hannah.” The irritation in her voice made Armin chuckle softly.

“One from your father, and another from a, uhm, Ms. Ackerman?”

In that moment Hannah had Armin’s attention.

“Mikasa?!” He blurted out, eyebrows knit the moment it hit him that he had completely failed to inform Jean he’d be going home with Annie that night.

“Ah, yeah that was her name! She wanted to know if a Mr. Arlert was here? I….uh, I guess I’ll call her back.” Armin nodded eagerly with ‘thank you’ heavily in his expression. Hannah shot him back a small smile, before darting back out the door, this time, closing it behind her. Annie turned back to Armin, her hands brushing down his cheeks.

“I want to go somewhere. Before work, I mean. Ever seen the Pacific, tiger?”

* * *

_“‘Dear Ms. Annie Hart,_

_I’m sick of curls. Since I was a very little girl, my mother would do my hair every morning, the same Pickford-style curls down the shoulders that were popular when she was young. I feel like an old rag doll, and even after she saw you had bobbed your hair, she still won’t let me do it. I think it’s unfair, but maybe a personal response from you will help? I am 15 after all, I should be able to bob my hair if I want to._

_-Sincerely, Ellie Mack.’”_

Armin furrowed his brows, lips curling up into a smile as he scanned the letter once again. “People really do ask the important questions, huh?”

He bumped his shoulder against Annie, who bit her lip to contain a smirk. “I supposed I have a lot of young fans. Though I don’t suppose I’m the best person to ask this question, since I first cut my hair off with a pair of gardening shears.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly have a mother to tell me ‘no,’” Annie’s eyes drifted to the letter in Armin’s hand, taking it from him and scanning it over. “My father was balled up about it for weeks...” Her grip on the letter tightened as she bit her lip, eyes neutral and stuck on the page. “...I wasn’t the angel everyone believes me to be.”

Armin raised his brows, before stifling a laugh. “I can believe that.”

Annie elbowed him in the arm, letting out a barely stifled chuckle. Before he could ask any further, Annie reached for another letter and cleared her throat. He could tell there was more to it. Her downcast eyes said enough. He imagined a slightly younger Annie, c. 1920, running off in one of her costumes, a scowl on her face as the long blonde curls she once had fell messy on her shoulders. He wondered how she got ahold of the shears to begin with, but it must have been an uneven cut at first, her eyes stinging and hands trembling.

In that moment, back in November of 1923, she looked happy. Well, as happy as Annie could look when she wasn’t forcing it. The bathing suit she wore made Armin blush as he tried not to focus too much on her figure and legs. A blue scarf was wrapped around her head tight, covering the messy hair she didn’t brush before they left.

The beach itself was a dream. It was a fairly empty beach, maybe one long trailer or two kept parked up at the rocks that led down to the shore. The ocean seemed bluer on the Pacific, Armin noted. What normally speckled green in the Atlantic speckled white here. The sand was soft and white under his feet. Little rocks and shells scattered closer towards the rolling line, but the occasional piece of wood drift stuck out of the dry sand.

Towards the towering rocks there was scuttering of little crabs and seagulls plucking their beaks at them. Miles of beach spread out around them in a horseshoe, looking out at Catalina Islands. The sun kept high above the horizon, soft clouds occasionally would cover it, making the breeze feel colder. Armin smiled excitedly, before his eyes met back on Annie’s.

One thing could be said for certain: Her eyes were brighter than any ocean.

“You know, I’d be willing to skip shooting all together today and just stay here with you.” Armin said with a sigh and a smile spread across his lips.

“I wouldn’t mind, but unfortunately, I doubt they’d appreciate the director and the lead playing hookey. Not to mention the paparazzi.” Before Armin could even get a word out as he began to frantically look she held up her hand, “Don’t worry about it. This isn’t a popular beach. Not yet, anyways. So it’s just us. Also, not many people come to the beach in November.”

His momentarily panicked expression softened. “As long as you’re comfortable.”

“I’m very comfortable, actually.” Annie, who was in the middle of reading another letter, rested her head against his shoulder. “Oooh, a love letter.” The immediate stiffen from the boy underneath her head made her laugh. “Don’t cast a kitten, mac, I get about 20 a stash.”

Armin cocked an eyebrow, before grinning and smooching Annie’s cheek with an audible hum. “Sometimes I forget how much of a celebrity you are.”

“Sometimes I wish I could as well.” She paused for a second, putting down the letter and stuffing it back into the bag they brought along. “Look inside the picnic basket. I snuck something I thought you’d like.”

He knit his brows, and eagerly opened up the wicker basket in front of him. A red napkin covered the contents, once removed revealed a canteen of water and four sandwiches. However, as he removed the canteen, he noticed something gleaming.

“Oh. OH, oh my god!” His eyes lit up, the smile on his face stretching ear to ear as he removed the small, hand-held Filmo 70 camera. “This is so...oh my god! 16 frames per second, 15 mm, nitrate stock...Annie, you’re killing me here!”

Annie could feel her heart hammering in her chest as she listened to the excitement in his voice. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it! Oh god, I could kiss you right now.” Her grin spread across her lips. She tilted her head back.

“What are you waiting for, tiger?”

Armin’s goofy smiling face quickly captured her lips, only separating when he started to laugh. “I just...Heh, you know I used to own one of these? Well, not this model of course! Heh, no, it was much more primitive, but...oh man, it was so much heavier! I had to mount it, I could barely carry it. I have some old negatives of Mikasa and Eren that I took somewhere…”

“A born filmmaker, hm?” She leaned back on her elbows, watching him closely as he turned the camera over and examined every last metal and glass plate. Armin’s near childlike enthusiasm over something as simple as a handheld film camera made Annie’s stomach erupt in butterflies. He began playing with the crank and dials.

“Nah, honestly I wasn’t much interested till after my parents died, but, heh…” He looked up and smiled, his face bright as he propped the camera up. “Eren found it in a trash pile. Neither him nor Mikasa knew how to use it. It took me a whole night to figure out. But the next few weeks were a blast, documenting everything we did as we explored the parks…” Annie was blissfully unaware that he was cranking the camera as she listened. “Hm, I wish I still had it. Some bimbo’s down the block kicked it under the wheels of an oncoming Ford…”

“I can’t imagine Eren and Mikasa taking that well.”

Armin let out a cackle. “Not at all! Eren wouldn’t stop swinging his fists, but it was Mikasa who scared them away. She’s got a glare like nothin’ else! Well, maybe yours can compete, bearcat.”

For the moment, Annie’s face was bright. No trace of her usual glare or neutral expression. “I think you were lucky to have them.”

“Oh, I know I was. I am. There were times when I felt like a burden on them both, but...I know them. I was never their third wheel. I appreciate that.”

“I’m a bit jealous.” Annie reached out for his hand, eyes meeting his.

“Vaudeville didn’t give you much time for friends?”

She shook her head. “Not with one's father constantly reminding you how important it is to make sure you do well and not cause the family to starve. And with strangers, he could be so...intimidating. Psht, like they were going to do anything. He could be an absolute dictator. For something as stupid as the entertainment of others...I guess I’m lucky I could be his little cash cow, what with all this wonderful shit I have now. He’s always saying that, anyway. He acts like we’ll be back on Orchard street the moment I get a bad review, what does he-”

She felt Armin squeeze her hand. Annie looked up, her cheeks growing red as she met his concerned eyes once again. It wasn’t long before she forced herself back into a neutral gaze. Once back to her senses, she was hit by how close Armin’s face was to hers. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment before Armin closed the gap. Even in kisses like these, he could be so ginger with her that she felt the butterflies in her tummy grow again. She bit her lip, a small smile pulling at her mouth as she leaned her forehead against his.

“I’m sorry,” She murmured, through a barely audible chuckle. “You wouldn’t understand that.” His hand moved a stray piece of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

“You’d be surprised at what I understand, Ms. Annie.” He pressed his nose against Annie’s, eager to get at least a small, sincere smile out of her again. It was so rare to see in public, he absolutely reveled in them. As he squeezed her hands once more, he could feel them tremble.

Annie bit her lip, nodding as she backed away. Her eyes darted to the camera Armin had in his other hand. “How long have you been filming me, tiger?”

Her attempts to change the subject were evident, but for her sake Armin played along. He grinned wide, and propped it up about eye level with the slouching Annie.

“What can I say, bearcat? You have a face that draws the camera in.”   

“Mr. Arlert, you are an absolute little shit.” She hopped up on her feet the moment Armin started moving the crank again, accidentally kicking some sand on his lap in the process. He followed, a smile on his face that would be impossible to melt off.

“I’m only trying to be a good film maker!” He laughed, as Annie furrowed her brow and began to turn around. “Nooo, come back! Give us a smile, Ms. Leonhardt!”

Armin’s heart skipped a beat the moment he heard her crack up. Instead of turning around however, Annie quickly made her way to the water.

“The beautiful Ms. Annie Leonhardt, wearing her best swimsuit, graces the ocean with her presence,” He rambled on as he continued to roll the camera. Annie turned to look at him as she put both feet in the water, one eyebrow cocked up, her hands on her hips. “Hollywood’s woman of mystery, an angel in devil’s shoes, who I know for a fact hasn’t washed her hair in a couple of days. I’ve also been informed she’s an incredible kisser.”

“They won’t be able to hear you, Arlert.” She cracked a grin, and walked backwards further into the water. “I’m afraid the camera wasn’t made for that. You  sound like a raving inmate.”

“They can’t hear me yet, but there’s always the possibility!” He trotted closer to her, careful to keep the camera as steady in his hands as possible. “Human ingenuity knows no bound!”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” She crossed her arms, a hint of a smile pulling at her lips as she stood thigh-deep in the chilly Pacific water. “When you stop talking baloney, you can put the camera down and join me.”

He kept on rolling. Armin’s chest felt warm. It amazed him how much the notoriously private actress had opened up to him, even putting aside their romantic entanglement. Though he couldn’t understand why he of all people was the one to see her like this. Why he was the only one to know Annie Leonhardt, as opposed to the thousands, millions, of people who looked up to Annie Hart. Part of him felt an odd sense of accomplishment. That of everyone, it was him who got to see the puzzle put together.

But Armin knew she wasn’t a puzzle. Annie Leonhardt was a young girl. A girl who certainly needed a lot of figuring out, but nothing short of a human who was uncomfortable with the pedestal she was made to stand on. He loved that about her. And perhaps, he figured, that’s why he alone got to see.  

“Armin?” He heard her call above the waves and breeze. “Are you coming in?”

“I don’t have a bathing suit, An- WHOA THERE!” He heard a squeal as a large wave swept Annie right off her feet. “HOLD ON, I’LL SAVE YOU!”

As gently as he could, he set the camera down on a nearby rock and sprinted into the waves. He was thankful it was at least lowtide. Annie emerged from the water spitting and coughing, sopping wet in her wool bathing suit. Armin likened her current appearance to a drowned rat.

“Are you okay??” He asked, just barely holding back his laughter as she scowled up at him through the wet blonde hair that momentarily blocked her vision.

“I’m just peachy.” She mumbled, grabbing his shoulders tight as he began to walk them out of the water. Armin stopped for a moment however, moving the hair out of her eyes and holding her pouty face.

He bumped his nose against hers, smiling before stealing a sweet, short, and soft kiss. “You’re much cuter than you give yourself credit for, I swear.”

Annie furrowed her brow, staring at her rather goofy director before the grin finally broke out. “Am I, tiger?”

“Absolutely- wHA ANNIE” He barely had time to react before she was pulling him back into the water, right into the path of another massive wave. Now it was he who was the drowned rat, and Annie made sure to laugh. “T-That was uncalled for!”

“What? I’m not about to be the only one looking ridiculous here.” She grabbed his hand tight, finally walked out with him and back to shore. “We’re perfectly even now.”  
As if Armin could stay annoyed. His attempts to glare were admirable. He bit his lip through the smile that was growing on his face.

“I wonder how much I could make selling those negatives of you prancing around in the water and getting knocked over?”

She looked back at him with a cocked eyebrow, a snicker escaping her lips as she pulled him toward their blanket and basket. “Come on. You need dry clothes and a shower before work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so late! I had a lead in a musical and the theater kind of consumed my life for a good two months. And now I come back with this relatively short breather chapter? Someone outta kick me. Aw well, fun stuff next time! Lots of fun stuff in the next few chapters, actually. See you then!
> 
> Historical and slang notes:  
> >The only thing worth noting is that bathing suits were indeed made out of wool at the time and good lord I cannot even imagine how uncomfortable that must have been getting in and out of the water.


	9. You're the Cream in my Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who makes you dream all day?

_“Ms. Annie Hart,_

_Three feature-length pictures a year for five years, signed November the 21st of 1919. Or have you forgotten your own signature, Ms. Hart? You have been an asset to Paramount for four years, along with your frequent co-stars Reiner Braun and Bertholdt Hoover. You’re even on the highest rungs of our payroll, unlike those two. They, however, have proven to be far more reliable. At the risk of your contract becoming null and void, as well as a law suit that we promise will in no way be of your benefit, we advise that you return post haste._

_-The Offices of Paramount, distribution branch of Famous Players-Lasky”_

* * *

_“Annie,_

_Your decision to not come home for Thanksgiving is an expected, albeit highly disappointing one. I can only hope you’ve been working, though I wouldn’t know since I’ve had such little word from you. How is it you could forget your father so easily? While I realize you may just as well be working, I find it fit to remind you of what is at risk should you decide to slack. I hope to see you come Christmas. Machs gut, Auf Wiedersehen._

_-Mr. J Leonhardt”_

* * *

December, 1923

“Final screen and costume test, Ms. Christa Lenz,” Armin motioned toward Levi to move the camera up. “White night gown, act 3. Camera. Action!”

Technically, Annie didn’t need to be in that day. Not when her screen tests, costume tests, makeup tests, and any other test under the sun had been completed two days prior.

“A little more to the left, Christa. Watch my finger, follow it- There! There, perfect, keep it right, wait, no a little more to the right.”

She liked watching him work. The tone of voice he had was one she enjoyed listening to. It was miles apart from the tone he used when they talked. When it was the two of them, jabbering over tea as they listened to the radio, his voice was bright and free. Childish excitement always slipped through in a way that brought easy smiles to her usually stoney face. In this setting, he took on a much needed air of authority that he’d slowly began to develop over the past two months of work.

“Can you give me a turn once? Clockwise. Thank you.”

He was in his element. Confident. Yet another side of him she found herself enamoured with. Hell, she was impressed with how professional he was around Christa even after she walked in on them necking. To be fair, it wasn’t _his_ chest she got a front row seat of at the party.

“Annie?” She heard him ask from his chair, megaphone in hand. “I’m sorry, but do you mind holding a reflector for just a moment? Yes, right there. Hold it up to the hair light.”

Annie nodded, doing as she was told with an odd amount of enthusiasm. She’d always found his to be contagious. He momentarily turned away from the stage to flash her a smile, toothy and bright. It was amazing how little she cared about how foolish she must have looked smiling back at him.

“At this point we’ll have to increase the amount of white face powder, Christa, and I’m sorry. I know it must be uncomfortable.” The look on his face was surprisingly stern, though Annie could say in earnest that he was still far far softer than pretty much any other director she’d had. “Maybe even do away with the rouge all together.”

“I’d imagine they’ll hardly be able to see my face.” Christa snickered. Annie couldn’t help but notice a twinge of awkwardness in her eyes as her and Armin looked at each other again. She wondered how many tasteless jokes Ymir had made about the incident to her.

“As long as we can still see your eyes. Levi and I agreed these scenes should be tinted purple, regardless. Really adds to the gloom.” Armin smiled, his eyes downcast as he scratched his nose. “Okay!” He clapped his hands, just barely getting the attention of everyone in the surrounding area. The sounds of construction and set up made it just slightly difficult. “We’ll take a half hour break for lunch. Christa, we’ll need you for a little while longer. A half hour, everyone!”

She set the reflector down on a near-by table, brushed off her freshly cleaned blue chiffon frock, and turned to see Armin walking toward her. His smile was ever bright, yet professional. Understandable, given the setting.

“Hey! I didn’t even see you walk in! It’s your day off, Bearcat, what on Earth are you doing here?”

Annie bit her lip, lazily shrugging her shoulders. “You look good today.”

“Do I?” He looked down at the new blue and white, vertical striped button up shirt he wore with an equally new tweed vest. His cheeks tinged pink as he looked back at her. “They were a gift. Showed up on our doorstep a couple days ago.” He grinned, raising an eyebrow at the smile she returned. “I have absolutely no clue who could have possibly sent them.”

“Whoever it was has amazing taste.” For a moment, Annie looked over Armin’s shoulder. The studio was as busy as ever, even during a supposed break. As people seemed more preoccupied with themselves and their jobs, she took the opportunity. “Come outside, let me fix your tie.”

“Fix it. _Sure._ ” Armin grinned but happily followed.

There was little to no hesitation to kiss him as soon as they were out of sight. Her hand that was on his tie shifted to cup the back of his neck, pulling him in harder. Armin happily held her waist in his hands. “We’re doing a pretty terrible job of hiding this, aren’t we?”

“We haven’t been caught.”

“No, you’re right, we haven’t. But if you keep kissing me like that we may.” Armin’s voice fluttered with flirtation.

“Oh? What makes you say that, tiger?”

 He didn’t answer, instead simply smiling against her lips before pulling her in for a gentle, gingerly kiss. He let out a soft hum as his smile grew wider.

Annie, on the other hand, seemed to have something different in mind. Her kiss was desperate, as was her tight hold on his shirt, giving her the opportunity to pull him in as close as she could.

“Hm!” Armin squeaked the moment he felt Annie nip at his lower lip. Before he could even process the situation, his tongue was tangling with Annie’s. While his hands rested softly on her waist, Annie’s were travelling up into his hair, ruffling and tangling her fingers through his blonde locks.

Well, his unruly hair could only stay gelled back for so long, he supposed.

That was hardly the problem at hand.

“Mm- Whoa, whoa!”

Annie herself had barely realized her own desperation as Armin lightly pushed her off. Her face heated up the moment their lips parted. Her brows were furrowed, eyes downcast as she held a tight grip on the front of his shirt. She swallowed the lump in her throat. _Oops_.

“Now I know you didn’t come here just for a necking session.” He chuckled, his own cheeks growing increasingly red. Armin only wished he could look right into her eyes. Unfortunately, the moment he looked down, Annie buried her face in his chest, knuckles white from how hard she gripped his shirt. “...What are you doing here, Annie? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Her words were muffled.

Armin chuckled, brows upturned in worry as he lifted her head up, holding her face as gingerly as he could. He bit his lip, stealing a soft peck from her before speaking.

“You know, I’ve learned quite a bit about you over these past few months. I mean, besides the fact that you’re an amazing kisser with killer gams.”

He could barely feel the movement of Annie’s face, but he could tell she was cocking a brow. “I have killer gams, do I now?”

“Don’t change the subject.” He rested his hands on her shoulders, struggling to keep his expression both stern and compassionate. It leaned far too much toward the latter, but with Annie he had an excuse. “It doesn’t bother or offend me, you know? That you don’t like to talk about what’s eating at you. You’re someone who values your privacy, and I could imagine how being in the spotlight effects that. You don’t let it show very often, but...Annie, I can tell when something’s up. You’re such a wonderful actress, but I have yet to fall for a fib of yours.” He snickered, squeezing her shoulders lightly as he struggled to get her eyes to meet his. “It’s all in your eyes. Those beautiful, icy blue eyes that show me so much when you’re not willing to talk. The way your brow furrows. Sometimes even the tone of your voice wavers. Annie, I know something’s wrong, and I have a good feeling as to what it could be related to, but...I won’t pry.”

Annie felt a familiar pull in her chest. A pull he caused far too easily. Her eyes looked to the side, giving her face the neutral expression she had mastered. Though, she found it hard to let go of his shirt.

“Whatever it is, just tell me when you feel it’s necessary. But, you know...I care about you, Annie. genuinely and truly. I’m not just in it for the backstage snogs. I’m in it for Annie Leonhardt.” He gave her shoulders another light squeeze, taking a small breath of crisp December air. “I want to know the real you more than anything. More than anyone. And I know I’ve seen more than most. I just want you to know you can trust me with whatever’s in your head.”

Her expression softened. There were a proverbial mountain of things she wanted to talk about. Things that had kept her up half the night. Things that led her to come in on her day off. Things that made her the private and defensive person she was.

Annie was never oblivious to her own social shortcomings.

In a way it was those social shortcomings that brought her this far. They can’t tear the image of the actress down if all they have is an illusion to go by. She remembered Reiner once telling her that all their co stars made the same comment about her eyes; they were like knives. Icy and sharp, could kill a man in one go. The magazines, on the other hand, described them as luminous and angelic. Bright, dream-like. Words that her co stars would use to describe the eyes of Christa Lenz instead. Fair enough, of course.

She was practically grateful that the public's image of her was stuck on that of an ingenue with golden curled hair, as it kept the money rolling in. And that’s what kept her and her father afloat. In vaudeville they’d call her a little princess. A far cry from the German immigrant living on Orchard Street.

Her grip on Armin’s shirt loosened. Doubt, she realized, was a hard feeling to shake off. And for years she doubted the sincerity and motive of any new director or average joe that showed up on her doorstep. Armin was no exception in the beginning. How fast he became the exception was almost frightening.  

Guilt, however, was a feeling far harder to shake, as she was realizing in that moment. Guilt over her own weaknesses and fears that made it hard for her to talk to begin with. Even to someone she could admit to herself she might just love.

Annie peered up and met his eyes once again, the corners of her lips pulling up into a small grin. “Meeting me must have been such a disappointment. I usually don’t think too much about dashing people's expectations.”

“Are you kidding?” He snickered, and held her face as he pulled her in for another kiss. “Come here, I have something to show you.”

He laced his fingers tight with hers, and led her toward the back of the studio lot. The room they walked into was empty, small, and dark. No windows, though an uncomfortably bright lamp stood up in the corner. Annie knew exactly what she was looking at. A somewhat outdated editing room, probably only used for reviewing initial and test footage.

“You can take the stool.” He said, pulling it out for her from under the projector. The projector itself rested on a small table, right across from a large white sheet nailed to the wall. Annie almost stepped on the cans of film that were tucked underneath the table.

She watched Armin closely as he opened up a can and very carefully fit the film reel into the projector.

“Okaaaaay,” He mumbled as he fumbled with the projector switches. The projector came to life with the sound of gears and engines working. A familiar flicker could be heard when Armin turned off the lamp and began to crank the lever. The clicking of the machine was almost comforting. “Alright. There we go.”

She leaned forward with bated breath. As her eyes focused on the screen, a familiar image popped up. That is, her own image. Her hair in a curly wig and bonnet, complemented by a very old fashioned floral dress. “....My test shots?”

“Wait for it.” He grinned, placing his free hand on top of hers. His ear to ear smile only served to make Annie more than a little suspicious. “There, there!! Look!”

She turned back to the screen, only to be greeted by her own blue eyes. For a moment, she was so mesmerized by it all she couldn’t respond. There she was, turning around on screen, blinking, making faces she remembered being directed to. In full technicolor. Annie could see the pink rouge on her cheeks, highlighted by her periwinkle dress shown bright and clear.  

“Since we got the go ahead to do technicolor for the beginning and climax, we thought we should test it out a bit!” Armin leaned in close to her, trying to get a good look at her reaction. Annie turned to meet his excited eyes and smile, a surprisingly excited smile of her own. “What do you think?”

“I think….oh my god. Not that I’ve never looked in a mirror, but...am I really that pale?” She spoke with a laugh, turning her attention back to the screen. She dragged her hand down her cheek before placing it over her mouth. Armin beamed, and stole a kiss on her cheek.

“You’re absolutely radiant, shoosh.”

Annie’s costume changed mid-reel to a pale pink nightgown someone identical to Christa’s, and no bonnet on her head. Okay, she thought, maybe he was right about that. The color made her glow.

Before the images and color could truly soak into her mind, the noise from the projector came to a halt and the reel was finished. Armin turned to her once again, the smile on his face twinged with the slightest bit of anxiety.

“So? Heh, I mean other than your blinding paleness, of course.”

 _Perfect. You’re going to go so far here, I don’t even know if they deserve you._ The words were so clear in her head, yet she didn’t feel the need to say them. Armin had proven many times over that he could read her face. No words necessary, Annie leaned over and captured his lips in a kiss. She wrapped her arms lazily around Armin’s neck, his hands gingerly rested on her waist. Even when they were done, they stayed like that, simply resting their forehead against one another's and taking slow breaths.

“I think it’s been close to a half hour, don’t you, tiger?”

Noise from inside the studio seemed to pick up almost on cue. Armin stood, and offered his hand to Annie. “You can stay for a little while longer, you know? Although I do think you should rest today.”

“We’ll see.” She shrugged, lacing their fingers together as they walked back outside toward the front. “You know, this reminds me. Have you shown Erwin your final draft of the script?”

“Of course I did! A couple weeks after the party he requested. Something about my words to the senator being ‘suspicious.’ So I took it right into his office.”

“...Including the ending?”

Armin’s lips turned up into an odd, almost off putting grin. “Ab-so-lute-ly.”

She stared at him with a raised eyebrow. “and?”

“Rejected. Flat out.” She felt him shrug. “You know, funny thing. He said he loved it. He just didn’t love how much money it would probably end up losing the studio. Which is fair, I’ll give him that! Jean said that about the original ending of one of my short films.”

“Uh-huh…” She was surprised to feel a certain air of confidence from you. “...You seem oddly chipper about your idea being rejected.”

“Do I?” He most certainly did, the smile on his face being close to blinding. “Well, to tell the truth, I anticipated it.”

“Did you, now?” She let go of his hand and crossed her arms, keeping as close as she could to him. The cool gust nearly pushed her over. “You have that look in your eye, you know.”

“What look?”

“Mischief. I should have known. As if the studio would ever accept that ending. They’d lose money for sure.” Armin linked his arm tightly around hers as she spoke. “Armin, dear, just what are you planning on doing? Do we need to discuss another ending?”

“No we do not.” The unsettlingly serene, happy look on his face would have surely scared anyone who wasn’t Annie Leonhardt. “Not at all.”

* * *

“I tell ya, Armin, I’ve been itching to get back to New York!” Eren proclaimed to his half-asleep friend almost as soon as he walked into the room, green eyes beaming. “I mean, L.A.’s okay, and I’m glad we’ll be spending winter here, but I miss the life and the sounds. I feel like there’s still so much of the city we haven’t seen, ya know?”

“I know.” Armin replied, his tone drowsy and low. He collapsed on Eren and Mikasa’s guest bed, nearly knocking over a pile of freshly cleaned shirts. “Where’s Mika?”

“In the shower. She was gonna wait up for you.”

Armin could just barely hear the shower running in the astounding quiet of the mansion. Sasha and Connie were either asleep or out on the town, and Jean must have been asleep as well, he figured. Odd, considering he wasn’t the one who had to get up relatively early to catch a train back east.

“What the hell even kept you so late when we haven’t even technically began filming?” Eren asked, his eyes still on his task of packing. Armin rolled over onto his stomach, his tie undone and hair an out of place mess. That, however, he could blame on a certain other blonde.

“Test footage,” He groaned. “Lots and lots of test footage. It had to be reviewed and the lighting had to be adjusted. I wish I’d done Christa’s first instead of last, considering her scenes require the most elaborate lighting and effects. Do you know how much film we probably wasted on lighting mistakes alone?”

“Well, you can’t get anywhere with shoddy work.” He slammed the lid of his suitcase, and leaned over against the top. “I’ll be there with you once we come back after New Years.”

“Yeah,” Armin smiled at his lifelong best friend, and thought back on all the stories they’d crafted together as children and the promises they made to work together. The fact that it was all actually coming together still didn’t seem completely real.

His smile wavered when he noticed something off about Eren’s face.

“What happened to your eye?”

Eren’s beaming face darkened, his brow furrowing. “Nothing. Just a stupid accident.”

“Is that...is that dry blood on your lip?” Armin propped himself up on his elbows, trying his best to get more of a look at Eren’s face. “Shucks, Eren, you’re all busted up. What the hell kind of accident- You got into another fight, didn’t you?”

“I don’t need a goddamn lecture!” He snapped back, his voice just loud enough to catch Armin off guard. The frustration on his face was just as apparent as the worry on Armin’s. Eren took a deep breath. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Armin plastered the little smile back on his face.

“It’s just…” He took another deep breath, as well as an audible gulp. “Mikasa and I went out for a walk today. We thought we’d check out the town a bit, ya know?”

Armin nodded, and motioned for him to go on.

“....Fucking bimbos. After living in the same New York neighborhood all our lives, it’s easy to forget how balled up the rest of the world can be.” His knuckles turned white. “I heard these three guys, these fancy Dans, making comments about Mikasa, calling her these names. I was fuming. But she held my hand, and told me to leave it. That she didn’t want to give people like that our time. But they just...one of them made a comment about seeing her at a downtown brothel and I just- I lost it.”

Armin knit his brows, feeling his stomach sink.

“I socked one of ‘em in the eye and wouldn’t stop till he apologized. I guess I wasn’t much against the three of them. Mikasa, though? She gave them one look and they hesitated long enough for her to pull me out.” He snickered, unclenching his knuckles just a bit. “I think she scared the piss outta them. Fucking dewdroppers.”

“You know, I’ll save the lecture this time.” He sat up, smiling more sincerely at his best friend. “I think they might have just had what was coming to them.”

“Yeah,” Eren sighed, his edge wearing down and he let himself cool. Armin noticed something else flash onto his face all of a sudden. Bashfulness. “I, uh, I’m gonna do it when we get back to New York. The whole proposal thing. I have it all planned out.”

“Oh?” Armin’s grin turned wide. “And what is this masterful plan?”

“So since Jean is being gracious and not coming with us for the Holidays, his beach side mansion is up for grabs, yeah? So I figured the second or third day back, I take her there so we can have a night by the shore.”

Armin cocked an eyebrow. “Eren, it’s December! Not much you can do at the shore right now.”

“Would you let me finish?” He chuckled, giving Armin’s shoulder a small push. “I meant for us to look at the stars. During the day I’d use my studio check to take her to a nice restaurant in Long Island, ya know? Then at night, while we’re alone under the stars, I get down on one knee and BAM! We’re insured! And have a friends entire empty mansion at our disposal for the rest of the night to do….whatever.”

“Mhmm…Keep your mind on the lord there, Eren.”

“Oh, shut up!” The boys began to laugh as Eren threw a balled up pair of socks at Armin’s head, which he only just managed to masterfully dodge. They were beginning to calm their laughing fit down as a nightgown clad Mikasa strolled into the room, her black hair wrapped up tight in a white bath towel.

“What are you boys laughing about?” She asked, between giving them each a kiss on the cheek.

“A-Absolutely nothing!” Eren answered, his face red and warm for a multitude of reasons. Mikasa raised an eyebrow at him, but put that aside to focus her attention on the exhausted Armin.

He guessed exactly what she was going to ask.

“What kept you out so late?”

“I promise, it was the studio this time.” His own face turned red, knowing full well what she really thought he was doing. “You know I said I’d call if I was going to Annie’s from now on.”

“Hm. I still can’t believe you felt the need to hide that from us.” Eren mumbled, wrapping his arms around Mikasa’s waist and resting his head on her shoulder. “We’re not the press. We’re actually very happy for you, if you must know.”

“Heh, yeah, I….I just wasn’t sure how comfortable Annie would be with you guys knowing.” He scratched his red cheeks.

Mikasa was hardly swayed by this answer. The sarcasm and distrust was apparent even in her usually soft tone. “Nice to see she’s making an effort to get to know the people in your life…”

“Mika.” Eren mumbled, affectionately squeezing her waist. “Be nice. She makes him happy. Honestly, I think she’s pretty funny.”

Her brows furrowed. “Yeah, she’s very funny alright.”

“Mikasa, please,” Armin knit his brows and smiled at her. “I promise you, I’m perfectly okay. She’s perfectly okay. She’s wonderful, in fact. I think you two will get along great someday, if you both just try.”

She began to ease up, letting out a sigh. “If you’re truly thinking that far ahead.”

His face grew pink once again. “W-Who knows.”

“Mhmm.” Mikasa’s lips pulled into a grin. “Go to sleep. You’re clearly spent, and we need to get up early tomorrow.”

“I know, I know, thanks ma.” He teased as he rolled off the bed. Armin took a quick stretch before walking over and kissing Mikasa on the cheek. “Good night, please wake me up tomorrow.”

“We will. Night.”

The two waved him off as he walked out of their room and toward the staircase leading up to the next floor. Armin hadn’t truly realized the depth of his exhaustion till he was away from the comfort and noise of his two best friends. The hallways of Jeans mansion were beginning to blur, as if the floors themselves were tempting him to sleep. What knocked him out of this was Jean himself, who Armin could have avoided a collision with if he were in a better state of  mind.

“Armin, if you’ve gone drinking, at least don’t get sick on my floors!” Jean snickered, grabbing hold of Armin’s shoulders before the boy could tip over.

“What? No no, I haven’t been drinking, it’s just been a,” He was cut off by his yawn. “...very long day.”

“Ah. The good ol’ 6-11. Believe me, you’ll get used to them once we really start shooting.” Jean looked at his friend with sympathy, and offered to help him get up to his room. An offer which Armin was quick to accept.

He couldn’t help but feel bad, after all it was Jean who offered him a room, a contact, a studio, and basically his entire career up till then. And here he was practically carrying him back to his room and asking nothing in return.

“You know, I’m actually glad I caught you, fella. I knew you’d all be out before I woke up tomorrow.” Jean settled Armin down onto his guest bed.

“Wha? Oh, yeah. What do you need?” Armin rubbed his eyes, trying his best to at least stay awake for this. “Are you sure you want to stay here over the holidays? Your mom probably misses you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure she does.” Jean huffed, before changing the subject back to what he intended. “Listen, if there’s, uh, something special you want to do. Not necessarily for someone, of course. Just theoretically. I have it on good authority that Pavlova and her company are performing something about a swan on broadway.”

“Huh?” The usually astoundingly bright Armin was far too tired for this level of thinking.

“Just keep that in mind, okay?” As he got up to leave, Jean made sure Armin saw him slip a wad of cash into his coat pocket. “Have a good Christmas, fella. Say hi to my mom for me, if you get the chance.”

Jean smiled, and walked out of the room, giving Armin some well needed time to get comfortable in his sheets and rest his eyes.

He didn’t even get a chance to change out of his clothes before he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Armin was shocked to find himself the most awake out of all his friends that next morning at the train station. His smiling, clean face, and neat ensemble looked particularly jarring standing next to Eren. Not even Mikasa cared to tuck in his shirt and button his suspenders. After all, she was on the verge of falling asleep right there too. Connie and Sasha seemed to do just that.

“And I thought I wasn’t a morning person.” He heard Annie mumble under her breath, making him snicker. She stood directly in front of him, trying her best to hide from any onlooking fans, cameramen, or godforbid other actors that may have also been in the crowd.

She was lucky. The train station was unusually slow that morning, making it easy for the group to climb in when the train finally arrived.

“Oh, thank god, we have bunks this time.” Eren grumbled as him and Mikasa filed into their cabin. They collapsed onto the bottom bed without even bothering to tuck away their suitcases. Armin gladly took charge of that, taking Annie’s suitcase as well.

Armin and Annie kicked off their shoes, and quietly climbed up to the top bunk.

“You don’t mind sharing a bed with me on a public train?” Armin whispered, a playful smile growing on his face. Annie’s cheeks tinged pink, her only answer being to cuddle into him and lay her head on his chest.

“Wake me up in a week.” She squeezed him tight, stealing a kiss.

Armin bit his lip, hesitating for a moment before asking his next question. “Are you spending Christmas with your father?”

He could feel her stiffen. “I guess so. Yeah. He’ll be upset if I don’t.”

“Okay…” He buried his nose in her hair, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “Our apartment has space for you, you know.”

“Yeah.” She took in a deep breath, letting it out with a sigh. “Believe me, I’ll be taking advantage of that.”

Armin chuckled, giving her an affectionate squeeze. “I’m happy to hear that.”      

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Autumn! Next time: Christmas in October.   
> Questions, comments, concerns, reviews, ect. are encouraged!
> 
> Historical and slang notes:  
> Fancy Dan- Flamboyant dresser  
> Dew dropper- A young man who doesn't work for a living and stays at home, living off a trust fund.   
> Balled up- Messed up  
> Insured- Engaged   
> Anna Pavlova- an incredibly famous Russian prima ballerina known for creating the role of "The Dying Swan," and her own company being the first ballet company to tour world-wide


	10. Stille Nacht

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hike up your skirt a little more,_   
>  _And show your world to me_

They’d been in New York a total of four days, and Annie still couldn’t stand the cold. When in a desert that’s normally seventy degrees year round, it’s easy to forget the feeling of chattering teeth, numb fingers and toes and the shaking from your shoulders down your spine.

Of course, the salt in the proverbial wound had to be that it hadn't been _cold enough_ to snow. Rain had been falling heavily the past two days, making the chill even worse. Annie loathed winter. She was incredibly sensitive to the cold, and tended to become moody the shorter the days got. However, she did love snow.

She had to feel bad for all the fans that had come up to her in the past few days, given the mood the weather put her in. And lord, were there plenty of fans. The moment she stepped off the train, she was almost pushed back down by people trying to get to her. She fell right into Connie Springer, who was quick to support her and laugh it off.

“OY!” She heard Eren yell, as someone rather rudely knocked the off-guard Mikasa out of his way. Were it not for the police officers around, she was fairly certain someone would get trampled. Through countless handshakes and shouts of “Merry Chistmas and Happy New Year,” Annie, and by extension her entire group, made it out of the train station in one piece.

She crouched down in the car, resting her head on Armin.

“Bit of an enthusiastic greeting, yeah?” He quipped, earning a laugh from the otherwise overwhelmed Annie. It usually wasn’t like this. Of course, she usually travelled with other stars. With the specific hope that people would focus more on them and let Annie get away smoothly.

Even the cab driver seemed amazed at her being there. He kept flicking his gaze back at her, which she returned with a forced smile. When asked where they were headed, Annie was quick to say the address of the little apartment in Brooklyn where Armin, Mikasa, and Eren lived. She wasn’t ready to go back to the upper west side just yet.

Back in the present, she huddled under layers of Armin’s blankets. The fireplace crackling near by did little to help anything.

“You look glamorous.” Armin teased, setting a cup of coffee for her on the nightstand. He kissed her nose, snickering at the half-dead, half-annoyed look on her face.

“I could kill a man right now, I swear.”

Armin bit his lip, concealing another snicker as he lay down next to her. He wrapped his arms around her tight, trying his best to warm her up.

“Hmmm, I do admit it’s cozy in here though…” She let out a sigh, closing her eyes for a moment as the small amount of activity in the apartment went on around her. Eren diligently packed his overnight bag, doubly checking and stuffing in as much as he could. Mikasa was, as usual, the more practical one. She stood near the bedroom doorway, leaning against the frame. Annie couldn’t help but admire her patience.

“Okay! Okay I think I have everything!” Eren triumphantly announced, shutting his suitcase with a loud thud.

 _“Everything?”_ Armin asked, his tone of voice and inflection giving rise to some sort of odd suspicion to Annie.

“Yes. Everything. Believe me.” The boys gave each other a nod.

“Long Island, huh?” She asked, sitting up a bit in Armin’s bed. “What the hell are you doing going to the beach in this weather? You’ll probably freeze.”

“Freeze?” Eren clicked his teeth and chuckled. “Yeah, I think you’ve been in California for too long. It’s not that cold out. Right Armin?”

Armin gave him a rather half hearted shrug, a mischievous look growing on his face.

“Okay. Have fun freezing. I’m sure Mikasa will get on okay.” She snuggled back down, barely acknowledging the little glare Eren shot her.

“Eren, now’s not a good time to get in a lather,” Mikasa called, waving him over with a muted look of excitement on her face. “The train won’t wait for us.” He grabbed his bag with a huff, and made his way to the door. As his eyes met Mikasa’s, his demeanor softened considerably once again.

Despite the company, Eren took her hand into his own tight. There was little hesitation to grab her waist and pull her in, completely closing the gap between them as Eren’s lips captured hers. Startled, she actually managed to drop the suitcase in her other hand. Eren held her face, almost knocking the cloche hat off her head. Her jet-black hair fell into her eyes, but neither were willing to part. Neither cared enough to fix it. She grasped the fabric of his waist coat, somehow managing to pull him in closer than he already was.

It seems their little world was too good to break out of, even as the awkward moments passed by for the other couple in the room. Annie scrunched her face, turning to Armin as he began to laugh into his hand. He winked at her, and loudly cleared his throat.

“Mmmn-!” They collected themselves as fast as they could, each of their faces burning scarlet as Armin and Annie, for once, were the ones looking on in amusement. Mikasa fixed her hair, and crabbed the suitcases again as the two were finally ready to go.

They waved, yelling a goodbye, and practically sprinted out the door.

“You know,” Annie began, as she once again sat up and stretched. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them be so….openly affectionate before.”

“Heh, yeah, big public displays of affection have never been their thing.” He got up from his bed, kissing her cheek as he changed into a clean shirt. “They’ve been together for so long, it’s gotten to the point where no one can even question it. I can hardly remember a time they haven’t been together.” Annie could practically hear the smile in his voice, even though he was turned toward his wardrobe. “You know he saved her life? And, I mean that in every way.”

“Oh?” She shifted in her seat to become more comfortable. “I have a feeling this will be a long story.”

“Psht, no extensive details necessary. I won’t beat my gums and bore you to death, Ms. Annie.” He grinned as he stole a kiss from her. As he began talking again, he moved out into the small kitchen. “I was about eight at the time. Eren had just turned nine. At that time he still had Doctor Jaeger and Carla, his parents. Mikasa’s family had just moved into our neighborhood in Brooklyn. We lived in Greenwood Heights, see? Mostly Polish, but a few Germans and Italian families as well. Mikasa’s family was a bit different. Her dad was a German immigrant, but her mother was Japanese. I only met them once, but they were lovely people.” She could hear him rustling around in the kitchen, putting a kettle on the stove, cracking eggs, the whole shabang. Well, she’d long since learned he had a way with multi-tasking. “but, Brooklyn can be a bit rough. You get into a couple bad deals, and you can end up at the wrong end of a gun barrel. They had lived in the country their whole lives. I don’t think they were completely prepared. I mean, not that I mean to cast my city in a bad light, but that’s reality for ya.”

Annie also found herself multitasking. She hopped up out of bed and shifted through her suitcase. She slipped her green winter day dress on slower than usual, as she listened close to his voice. Of course, Armin’s voice was one she never had a problem with hearing.

“Dr. Jaeger had a house call with them and Eren came along, but all they found was Mr. and Mrs. Ackerman cold on the floor. No Mikasa, and….after that, they haven’t really told me much. Eren went looking for her and found her in a shed near the docks.” He walked into the bedroom with a tray under two cups of coffee. “Lord only knows how he managed this, but he got her away safely from her three kidnappers. I think...well, I don’t think it was a pretty scene when the coppers showed up. Whatever really happened is irrelevant in the long run I guess. He saved her, and she lived with them as a welcome guest and member of the family from then on. And I think she fell in love with him almost as soon as he pulled her out of that shed and gave her his scarf.” He smiled, looking down at the tray as if his mind was miles away for that split second. “Eren’s a bit more stubborn, though. They became an official item the day Eren turned fifteen. Honestly, it feels like they were always together. I’m not surprised he’s asking her to marry him now. I’m only surprised he didn’t do it sooner.”

“Ah,” She grinned, moving toward him as she straightened up her dress. “So that’s what’s happening in Long Island?”

His cheeks grew pink, but his smile was bright. “Heh, that’s exactly it. Of course, among other things.”

“Mmhmm, I’d rather you not elaborate on that.”

“Deal.” Armin snickered, as he scurried back into the kitchen. “Hey! You know, Greenwood Heights had a beautiful park near it. I think we should take a stroll today, yeah? I-I mean, I can’t imagine you have anything else planned.”

Annie bit her lip. “I don’t…”

The hesitance in her voice made her unease obvious to him from the other room. The crease in her brow solidified it when he walked back in.

“I doubt you’ll have to worry about people mobbing you there, bearcat. It’s a working-class Brooklyn neighborhood. Any fans you have may be too shy to come up to you.” He set her breakfast down on the table and flashed a smile. That damn smile that made her so weak at the knees.

“...Okay.” She returned his smile, and thanked him for breakfast. “Give me an hour. I still need to do my makeup.” Currently, she was in the process of slipping on her stockings. Armin made a point of keeping his eyes on her face.

“Absolutely!” He beamed, and kissed her cheek.

“Hey, actually, may I ask you something?”

He cocked an eyebrow, but nodded accordingly. “Anything.”

“At what point does avoiding someone become self destructive?”

“...Annie, if you want me to come with you to visit your father, you need only ask.” He frowned, as in that moment she refused to meet his gaze.

In typical Annie fashion, she was quick to change the subject.

“I’m glad I remembered to pack my gloves. The wind is making it look biting cold out.”

There was a pause, and Annie was quick to feel a familiar pull at her chest. He was always so patient, and in Annie’s mind she did nothing to deserve it. She continued to put her stockings and garters on in silence, her mouth pressed in a straight line.

The pull in her chest subsided when she felt his hand on her shoulder. The bed dipped as he sat beside her, smiling warmly as he brought her hand to his lips.

“I said I wouldn’t pry. I won’t pry.” Armin knit his brow, and gave her a look akin to that of a parent nicely lecturing their young child. “However I will encourage you. The more you put it off, the more it’ll weigh on you, and it’ll crush you. Besides, I think part of you misses him and is eager to at least spend a couple hours with him. You’re a lot softer than you think.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him, and squeezed his hand. “What the hell gives you that impression?”

“Hmm, just my own observations.” He shrugged, pulling a smile that made it look like he was up to something. Of course, as Annie thought about it, his smiles always seemed to make it look like he was up to something. His cute face almost made her forget how devious he could be. “Now if you’re up for that walk in the park, we should hurry before the streets start getting busy.”

“...Alright, tiger, you got me.” She stood up, the corners of her lips pulling back into a grin as she pulled him up as well and into a kiss. “I’ll be ready in 20.”

She hopped off the bathroom, looking around the side of the bedroom that was obviously claimed by Armin on the way. Annie had been there for several days and there was always something to admire about the mess. It mostly consisted of piles of books and magazines, with the odd stray sock or pair of suspenders scattered around. She was somewhat relieved at having not spotted any magazines bearing her image. Besides, what she’d found so far was much more entertaining. A copy of James Joyce’s _Ulysses_ (a book and author of which she was not in the least bit surprised he enjoyed) rested on top of a growing pile of _Weird Tales_ magazines. Modernist brick novels and trashy Pulp Horror monthlys.

Annie smiled to herself, wondering how she ended up falling for such a funny old bird.

* * *

“I thought you said we were going to the park, Mr. Arlert.”

“We’re in a park! And look, not many people come here!”

“That’s because it’s a _cemetery_ , Mr. Arlert.”

There was a natural gloom around cemeteries, but it didn’t take away from the beauty of the frosted grass and slowly dropping light snow onto the tombstones. It was eery, but beautiful.

Though, it did make the Christmas cheer and spirit of the neighborhood a bit more, well, sinister. Church bells rang as a choir outside the nearby church sung carols for those who passed by, mostly consisting of children running around unsupervised in clothes that couldn’t have possibly kept them warm. Wreaths hung from street posts and Fords as a local grocery store owner stood outside his shop dressed as Santa, ringing the bell in his hand as anyone who could afford to made donations.

What Annie loved most was the persistent scent of peppermint, cinnamon, and fresh pine. The Polish and Italian bakeries around the block opened their doors to let out the smell of freshly baked Christmas cookies, which Armin readily bought for Annie when they originally walked passed them. She felt more Holiday cheer and happiness in that little working class neighborhood than she ever did in the Upper West Side, and especially in the dreary tenements of Orchard street.

Still, the Christmas tree decorated right at the opening of the large Green-Wood cemetery seemed a little in bad taste.

Her arm was linked with Armin’s as they walked up the sloped pathway. She looked up to see him beaming, his button nose and cheeks red from the chill in the air. The winter coat he wore looked thin, and Annie remembered that he himself had been living only a few steps above these conditions up until several months ago.

“You know, I never quite thought of it like that? Eren, Mikasa, and I used to play here all the time.” His gloved hand grabbed hers, and led her toward a large mausoleum with loose hinges. “We used to play house in this tomb! I think Eren and Mikasa had their first kiss in there too, actually.”

“That’s….a little disturbing, but who am I to judge.” She squeezed his hand, flashing him a grin before stealing a kiss. “Aww, look. They put a wreath on the door. How charmingly morbid.”  

“And how!” he chuckled, kissing her nose as they walked along and further up the hill. “Yeah, it’s obviously no Prospect Park, but it is certainly a place to be alone, don’t you think?”

She nodded, a constant little grin on her face as they continued. Annie had never really been to Brooklyn outside of scheduled performances during her Vaudeville days. Even then, she was kept mostly in the car and backstage, only really exploring the single block between the theater and her hotel room. It might not have been as big as Manhattan, but Brooklyn was certainly bustling with activity.

And Armin was right. No one mobbed around her. Though people certainly stared slack jawed, no one attempted to trample her like they did when she got off the train a few days prior. It was a nice change of pace.

“You know, I would absolutely love to film here for another picture in the future. Maybe….maybe more of a gothic horror than a German expressionist one?” He tapped his chin, and Annie watched his face closely as he brainstormed. “Ohh, maybe some kind of a horror-romance blend?”

“Slow down, tiger, focus on the film you’re working on now.”

He chuckled, and pulled her in close against the cold wind. “I know, I know. I can’t help it. I’m always getting ideas for the future. You know, for my next picture, I’d actually like to do a historical drama. If that’s okay with you?”

“Well sure, I don’t see why you would need my approval.”

“Why else?” He asked, his tone almost playfully teasing. “You’re my leading lady, after all.”

“Hm. Assumptions, assumptions.” Her lips pulled into a smile as she linked her arm with his. Even further into the cemetery, she could still hear the music from town. A familiar Christmas Carol played, though it was odd hearing it outside its original German. _Stille Nacht_ , she hummed softly under her breath

On top of a hill they found a bench, only barely covered in snow. Annie stood back, waiting for Armin to dust it off before sitting down.

She hardly remembered ever feeling as content as she did in the hour she sat there with Armin, head rested against his shoulder as their hands locked together. The snow was still no more than a light dusting, but it made for a nice added depth of view of lower Brooklyn. In the distance, the city lights of Manhattan shined bright against the grey sky.

Armin lazily rested his head on top of Annie’s, and spoke more about the type of film that came to mind when he looked at the backdrop of the cemetery. Annie listened close, though didn’t respond. She always loved listening to him ramble on about nothing in particular, to the point where his voice alone was enough to sooth her.

Though the mood was killed just a bit with the sound of Annie’s stomach growling.

“Well, you didn’t eat much breakfast.” Armin murmured, checking his pocket watch as the two reluctantly started to move again. He helped her up, and the two linked arms again as they made their way back toward the entrance. “How about I treat you to lunch? There’s a small cafe not too far from here and I happen to know the owner. He always gives Eren, Mikasa, and I nice discounts.”

“Sure, just don’t be afraid to ask for help paying for anything.” She squeezed his arm, looking up at him with a grin. “I know those evil producers haven’t given you your paycheck yet.”

He shrugged and snickered, officially leading the way out.

The cafe stood across the street from the Green-Wood cemetery gates, and luckily had an open table for two toward the back. She was particularly grateful for that last detail. Armin pulled a chair out for her and made sure she was comfortable before he went to see the owner. Peaking over, she could see he was a middle aged blond man, most likely of German descent telling solely by his name. Mr. Hannes, a former lieutenant in the army, only to retire right before the dawn of the great war. Convenient timing, but he was certainly making a cozy living.

Armin strolled back over with two cups of coffee in his hands and two menus under his arm.

“Not many wandering eyes here, Ms. Annie, and I assure you this place makes a darb beef stew.” He flashed her a little wink as he handed her a coffee and a menu, before sitting himself down right across. They shrugged off their coats, and Annie shielded herself behind the menu as people walked in and out.

Her hand, however, was outstretched, eager to grab on to Armin’s. He held it tight, running his thumb over her knuckles.

“Know what you want?” The owner asked, a smile on his face that Annie could see out of the corner of her menu. Heat crept up on her face as she realized how downright self conscious she felt in that moment.

Being out on the town in Hollywood was different. Everyone generally knew everyone. They were all in the same boat.

But this neighborhood was small. Most people, she’d realized in the last hour, were too busy to care about a Hollywood actress strolling down their streets.

“Soup and sandwich sound good to you, Ms. Annie?” Armin asked, tipping her menu down just a little to get a look at her face. She nodded, biting her lip as she grinned in approval. “Alright! Make it a Manhattan clam chowder.”

With a nod, Hannes took their menus and was on his way. Annie still felt more than a little exposed, and once again reached for Armin’s hand.

“I will say, this has been nice.” She lifted her head a bit, meeting Armin’s bright eyes. “I don’t believe we’ve had a proper date outside of my kitchen. It’s nice to have someone else who isn’t you cooking for me.”

“Is that a knock at my cooking, Annie?”

“Absolutely not, Mr. Arlert.” She leaned against her palm, tapping her fingers on her chin. “Though your range as a chef is very limited.”

“Ha! Okay, you have me there.” He leaned forward, mimicking her pose. “I’m glad you’re having a good time. I know being in New York is making you a bit uneasy, but you would feel much worse being stuck in my dingy little apartment.”

“It’s not a mansion, but it’s still cozy, homey, even.” She mindlessly stirred the spoon in her coffee, eyes drifting down, though the grin on her face stuck.

“Even so, going stir crazy would complicate things even more.” His cheeks turned pink as he felt Annie’s foot run up his leg. At least in this occasion, he knew she wasn’t pulling some strange test-of-character on him. “I’m glad you feel so comfortable in my company.”

Annie peaked back up at him, the look on her face significantly softer than it typically was. She felt a warmth in her chest as their eyes met, as well as an overwhelming sense of security. She relaxed considerably, physically feeling much less rigid and tight. When their food came, she ate slowly, wanting nothing more than to prolong their time together in that moment.

Eating homestyle food in the company of the person she cared about most while not having to worry about someone breathing down her neck for one reason or another. It was an afternoon she needed.

“Excuse me?” Annie heard a small voice, and felt a tug at her sleeve. “Are you Annie Hart?”  Her and Armin both looked down to see a girl, no older than eight, staring at Annie with starry eyes when they made contact. “It is you! Papa, I was right!”  
Armin sat up, giving the little girl an awkward, though warm smile. Before he could say anything to protest for Annie’s sake, Annie herself spoke.

“Keen eyes, fella. I was trying so hard to hide.” She took a peak around the cafe, noticing that the small number of people looked on with a mix of excitement and confusion. Men leaned over to whisper to their friends, and a group of teenage girls near the store window giggled as they no doubt imagined themselves in the role of the young Hollywood starlet.

Perhaps it was the genuinely calming atmosphere of that afternoon mixed with Armin’s soothing and encouraging presence, but Annie felt significantly less dreadful than she expected.

“Can I please have your autograph???” The little girl asked, bouncing on her toes as Annie nodded in agreement, showing her that classic actresses smile Armin was accustomed to seeing on screen or in photos. The girl reached into the pocket of her dress, pulling out several miniature studio photos of stars before finding the one she was looking for.

Armin could tell she was pulling a fake smile. She was an actress, and she was damn good at it, but Armin could see through her pretty pearl teeth. Though, he noticed it was easier for her to fake a smile for the kid, she knew it meant she was going to be here even longer than she originally thought.

“And who am I making this out to?” Annie asked, as Hannes handed her a pen from across the counter. She nodded a quick thank you to him.

“Abigail Brant!”

“How pretty.” With a quick motion of the pen, Annie signed the little picture;

_To Abigail,_

_Smile bright, stay polite_

_Sincerely and Truly,_

_Annie Hart_

It was a nice little message, Armin thought. Though knowing Annie like he did, it seemed almost funny.

“So Abigail,” Armin asked, leaning forward with a grin. “Who’s your favorite actress?”

Without a moment of hesitation, Abigail turned to him beaming.

“Christa Lenz!”

“Oh.” He raised his brows, taken back for a second before noticing the tight lipped smile Annie gave him. He laughed, and it was as infectious as usual. “Well I’m sure she’d love to hear that!”

The little girl’s father swiftly came to whisk her away, apologizing to the two as they left. Annie wouldn’t have minded one bit, were it not for the fact that there were now four others waiting for her autograph.

Well, the peaceful afternoon could only last for so long. _At least no one has a camera._

 _“Sorry,”_ She could see Armin mouth. His brows knit, stomach tightening as he realized he was the one who put her there.

Annie simply shrugged, tapping his foot under the table as a response. She took a deep breath, gluing the smile on as she signed her name, one after the other, on napkins and photos, and even a man’s shirt.

It was times like this she remembered just how much she hated feeling surrounded.

“Have a wonderful day,” She wished to the final person in line, really pushing the cheerfulness. Finally, the cafe had emptied with the exception of Armin, Annie, the owner, several employees, and a small group sitting at the counter.

She took in another deep breath. Annie hunched over the table, expressionless for a moment before glancing up at a concerned looking Armin.

“An actress who doesn’t like crowds and attention. You must love your line of work.” His tone was playful, but restrained. He leaned over, grabbing her hand.

“It pays the bills.” She brought her cup of coffee up to her lips, only to find that it had grown cold. Disappointed, she set it down and huffed. “I don’t care about the rest, I can deal with it.”

“Hmm. By choice?” Armin leaned closer to her, trying his best to read her downcast eyes.

“It pays the bills.” She repeated, her tone low. Armin nodded, and dropped the subject all together. He had questions rolling in the back of his head, but he bit his tongue, hoping maybe she’d be able to open up to him soon.

He leaned forward again, and smiled sheepishly at her. “And that’s an acceptable way to live. Just know, you can do anything you want to.”

“Anything I want to do…” She nodded as she stirred her coffee again. “Is it alright if I want us to leave?”

Armin nodded in agreement, and Annie eagerly paid for their meal before he even got the chance to take his wallet out. They walked out arm and arm, and both took in deep breaths of the crisp winter air.

“Are you okay?” Armin asked, squeezing her close as they strolled down the thankfully empty block. She looked up at him with a smile, though Armin was quick to notice the crease in her brow.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. And….thanks.” She slipped her hand down to meet his, squeezing tight. Her face felt warm as Armin pressed a kiss to her cheeks.

“Just let me pay next time, doll, okay?”

“Armin…” The urge to be closer to him was growing unbearable. Annie pressed her lips into a tight line, scanning the streets before promptly pulling into a nearby alley.

He let out an almost puppy like yelp as Annie pulled him down by the tie, pressing her lips firmly and sloppily against his. Without hesitation Armin wrapped his arms around her waist, grinning as she held his face. Their sloppy kiss soon found its rhythm, with tongues brushing together in slow, languid motions.

“Sorry,” She whispered as they finally came up for air, foreheads resting against each other. The smile on her face seemed so easy, relaxed. _It’s easy to relax around you._ “Think of it as your way of making it up to me. You know, for not hiding me well enough. A necking session for each autograph I have to sign.”

“W-Well, it certainly seems fair enough, Ms. Annie.” He snickered, pressing a kiss to her nose and pushing his blond hair out of his eyes. She really did have a thing for messing up his hair in these situations. He captured her lips, holding her as close as he could. The heat and pressure from their hips made the air weighted, and thick.

The moment Annie felt Armin’s hands grab her bum, the life practically drained out of her as a man’s voice yelled out toward them.

“Hey! Your parents outta know what you kids are up to!”

The two pulled apart, instantly turning red at the sight of the large man glaring them down. A pastor by the name of Nick, if the tag on his shirt was to be believed. He spoke with a husky Missouri accent, and carried a pile of papers and books under his arm. Annie recognized the title of one of them. A paper popular with conservative church groups.

“Hey, I recognize you, little miss. You’re in the pictures, ain’t ya?”  

She wiped her mouth, glaring down at the pavement as she grabbed Armin’s hand and swiftly walked past the man.

“Oy! It’s people like you in that town of jazz hounds who’re ruinin’ this country! An unmarried woman like yerself should be ashamed!” Armin looked back, eyes furrowed as the man slowly left his sight. Annie’s grip on his hand was solid.

 _No no no no no._ Her chest tightened, and she couldn’t tell what was causing it more. Embarrassment, or momentary panic. _He’s some nobody from nowhere, the studio won’t care. The papers won’t care, just-_ She stopped, taking in a deep breath. Annie’s face was back to its default of emotionless and icey in no time.

“Annie?” He put a tentative hand on her shoulder, and Annie was stiff. Eventually, she placed her hand on top of his.

“Sorry, I just,” The two continued walking, finding themselves down a familiar block. “I don’t like being on thin ice.”

“....I’m sorry.” He mumbled, a sullen look on his face as he once again felt the guilt in the situation. Annie stopped in her tracks, though she looked on ahead.

“Are we close to the subway?”

“Ah! Yeah, the nearest station is a block away.”

She bit her lip, anxiety creeping up on her as she squeezed his hand and resolved to do what she had to.

“Come see my dad with me.” She asked, her voice back in its monotone, lacking the melodious aspect that usually came along with it.

A smile returned to Armin’s face. “Of course.”

* * *

Armin never much liked the subway. It was always crowded, hot, suffocating, and usually insufferably loud. He didn’t mind people chatting and having a good time, of course, but he did wish he could tune it out. Unfortunately for him, a trip from Brooklyn to Upper Manhattan wasn’t likely to be a short one. He scrunched close to Annie, who laid her cloche hat on her face so she would look like another napping commuter.

It looked oddly….adorable. He smiled, and leaned his his head on top of hers. Rush hour had yet to set in, much to his delight, but the crowd and noise was still there. It put him on edge. Like being at a party, it was hard to think.

They were quick to rush off as soon as they reached their West 74th Street stop, and Armin couldn’t help but feel incredibly anxious. He knew it wasn’t the same, but meeting her father almost felt like he was courting her like they would have a decade ago. Not to mention he’d never quite been in that part of town. Gorgeous brownstone townhouses lined the streets, with expensive looking automobiles parked out front. No doubt owned by old money families of Manhattan. “Buncha good for nothin’ eggs,” As Eren would call them.

Annie fit in well, despite her “new money” status. Armin, on the other hand, felt downright sheepish in his hand-me-down coat and flat cap.

And of course, back to Annie’s father. A man Armin had only heard about in snippets, as Annie was always reluctant to talk about him, but could safely assume was not the warmest of men. The more timid Armin could only do and say so much when brought up against a large, bitter, aging German stage parent.

He could feel Annie’s hand shaking in his. She remained silent and stone faced during most of the three-block walk to her apartment, but her own anxiety was obvious in her tremors.

  _What kind of man is he?_ Armin wondered as he squeezed the hand of the usually stoic actress.

“Armin,” She spoke up finally, turning to him and clutching onto the fabric of his jacket. “Do me a favor and don’t take anything he might say to heart.”

He cocked an eyebrow, but nodded. As they stood in front of her large brownstone, Annie stole one more kiss from him. It brought an easy smile to both their faces, and a warm blush to Annie’s that she tried desperately to will away as they walked up the steps to the door.  

Armin flinched at the obnoxiously loud buzzing doorbell, which to both of their luck only needed to be rung once. They were greeted by a pleasant, pretty young woman with black hair tied back tightly under a handkerchief.  

“Ms. Leonhardt!” The young woman sounded bright and peppy in contrast to the stiff atmosphere of the house. “We weren’t expecting you!”

“Mina, it’s nice to see you.” The girls hugged, and Armin couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to see someone else Annie was genuinely friendly with. “Uh, yeah, we were in town and I figured I’d crash here for a bit. Oh, this is my director, by the way. He’s been kind enough to chaperone me around. Mr. Armin Arlert, this is my housekeeper, Mina Carolina.”

“How do you do?” He shook her hand, meeting her gaze with a gracious smile. Mina returned his grin, and nodded in response.

“Your father was just napping in the living room, if you’d like me to wake him?”

“No, I’ll take care of that.” Annie gestured toward Armin, and the two walked into the pristinely kept foyer. “If you could make us some tea, though?”

“Absolutely!” Mina scurried off into the nearby kitchen, leaving the two alone.

“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, tiger, but please, remember what I said.” She murmured as the large living room came into view. “Don’t take anything too personally.”

He nodded, his smile looking more and more forced as they entered. Armin’s eyes immediately fell on the collection of studio portraits hanging over the mantel. Five in total, and telling by the length of her hair alone, they must have been taken once a year since 1919.

There were pictures much older spread around the room. An advertisement hung near the far end featured a little girl dressed in a tutu, hair tied back into a bun as she curtsied. It was almost sickeningly cute. And it was Annie, he quickly realized, circa 1910. A much younger Reiner and Bertholdt stood in the background. He had to stifle a giggle. Pictures like that dominated the room. Advertisements, publicity shots, and studio cards dating from 1910 all the way up to a few months ago.

He could only imagine how self conscious they made Annie feel.

One picture stuck out to him, however. It was older even still, kept in a frame, but relatively cracked all around its edges. A young family stood in front of a recognizable New York harbor. They dressed practically, with the young mother wearing a large handkerchief around her hair as her husband stood by, hand on her shoulder as he hoisted a large burlap sack over his own. One medium sized suitcase rested in front of them, and a girl no older than four was held on her mother’s hip.      

They had to have been fresh off the boat. Armin’s family had taken a photo just like it when they arrived in 1908. The woman was smiling, but the little girl and man had similar blank expressions. In the corner was written ‘May, 1906.’ It seemed even as a young girl, Annie had a bit of a naturally glum face.

His eyes returned to her, and saw her hesitate to approach the sleeping form of her father. Their coats were very neatly set on a nearby chair, telling him that she was certainly taking her time.

“Papa?” She whispered, crouching down next to him and giving his shoulder a light push. She grabbed the hand that rested on his lap. “Papa, ich bin es. Annie.”

The first thing Armin noticed about him was his eyes. They were a piercing, icy blue, almost identical to his daughter’s. The biggest difference Armin could find other than age, was that her father’s eyes were much, much harsher.

At least, his gaze was harsh when it fell on Armin. That split second was one of the most terrifying in Armin’s young life.

“Ann, was hat dich heirhin verschlagan?” His voice was deep, and sounded groggy as he picked himself up. Before he could settle, he erupted into a short coughing fit that made Armin jump.

Annie’s stoney expression faltered, and Armin had an increasingly hard time determining how she was feeling as the atmosphere in the room somehow became both suffocating and affectionate. She kissed her father’s cheek, and sat next to him.

“I was in the neighborhood.” She answered in English, much to Armin’s relief. He stood awkwardly by the mantel, wondering if he was even welcome to sit down in this man’s company. “I’m sorry I missed Thanksgiving. I promise I was working.”

“Were you…” His voice was heavily accented. “With this new studio?”

She hesitantly nodded.

“I read in the magazines that they’re only paying $400,000.” There was an unmistakable edge of criticism rising in his voice that Armin was quick to note. His coughs did little to hide that. “The other studio payed you more. Was your contract even up? Why would you do such a thing? That’s very selfish of you.”

Her brows furrowed, and Armin wondered if they usually greeted each other by talking business.

“Did they fire you? What did you do? Ach du meine güte, Annie, I leave you to make your own decisions, and this is-”

“I didn’t _do_ anything.” She spoke up, her voice level, though it certainly had its edge. Annie took a breath, and changed the subject. “How’s your health?”

“As good as it can be with less funds.”

The conversation went on, and Armin knew he wasn’t the only one feeling an immense awkwardness in the air. When Mina brought them in a tray of tea and sandwiches, he took it as his cue to sit down, taking his place on a lounge chair beside Annie. Her father finally seemed to actually acknowledge him. However, it wasn’t necessarily a welcome thing.

“Wer ist das?” He grumbled to Annie, as if Armin couldn’t hear him from that distance. He may not have known too much German, but he knew what he was asking.

“The director of a picture I’m working on. Mr. Armin Arlert.” Annie peaked over at the young man in question, and Armin immediately tried to put on a friendly face as he outstretched his hand. Her father did not return the gesture.

Armin cleared his throat, and sat back. “It’s a pleasure, sir.”

There was no warmth in his stare. Her father looked at Armin as if he were an insect. One that needed to be squashed before it could cause any damage.

“Why are you with her?” He asked, voice level, but not without a bite that Armin was quick to note. Annie’s eyes flashed to Armin, her eyebrows creased. She must have been nervous. Her cheeks became flushed, and she took a deep breath. Armin could feel a knot in his stomach and a lump in his throat.

“I live near where she was staying, and I thought I’d chaperone her around.” He wrung his hands together on his lap. “I figured it would be a bit safer for the young lady if she was with someone. And I’m not a recognizable face, so it’s easier for people to overlook us in a crowd.”

He turned to Annie, a hint of suspicious in his eyes.

“My daughter knows I don’t approve of her walking around with strange men.” Annie was quick to turn her gaze to the side. Her father’s returned to Armin. “People might get the wrong idea. I’m sure you understand, don’t you, Mr. Arlert? I assume you’re smart enough to know what’s expected of her?”

“With all due respect, Mr. Leonhardt,” Armin balled his fists, eyes locked with the other man’s. Something about the way he talked about her didn’t sit right with him. None of this did. “I think your daughter’s allowed to take a break from her role every once in awhile. She’s only 21. It wouldn’t be healthy for her to stay so isolated.”

“I’m glad working with her for three months has made you think you know my daughter better than I.” Like Annie, the emotion in his voice was subtle. But if Armin’s ability to interpret a Leonhardt’s voice was right, there was anger rising. He looked back to Annie. “What, is this boy going to take my Löwenbaby away from me?”

Annie’s brows furrowed, her cheeks growing red at the sound of her old pet name. “It’s fine papa, I’ll be more careful.”

Armin bit his tongue for the moment, trying his best not to dig Annie, or himself for that matter, into a deeper hole. Her father fell into another short coughing fit, this time making Annie flinch.

“Good. The last thing I need to read in the papers about how my daughter has become another Hollywood schlampe.” He glared back up at Armin, and he knew exactly what he meant. Certainly nothing kind. “Or maybe she’s already there. Ann, Schläfst du zusammen?”

Annie tensed, her eyes darting up to meet her father’s. Armin quickly realized what the man was asking. _Are you sleeping together?_

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me,” He spit back. “Since when do you become close to a director?”

“Am I not allowed to?”

“Do you think it’s nothing, to tromp around like a little harlot and ruin everything we’ve worked for?” Finally, he raised his voice. Annie held firm, but Armin couldn’t help but jump. “To be blacklisted and kicked out on your ass, forcing us back to Orchard street?”

“...Why do you think so low of her? She’s more than your cash cow.” Armin instantly regretted saying that.  

And he promised her he wouldn’t take anything to heart. Well, he was keeping that promise. He wouldn’t take anything he said about Armin to heart. However, he couldn’t stand to listen to him degrade his own daughter.

“You have a mouth on you.”

“It’s 1923, women can vote now, and you think having a boyfriend is enough to ruin her career?” He was at the edge of the seat, brows furrowed. “I’m not saying we’ve slept together,” Which they hadn’t, to be fair. “But you need to leave this townhouse and catch up on the times if that’s what you truly believe. She’s been doing wonderfully on her own.”

“A nobody like you thinks he knows how the industry works?”

“I know how the world in this decade works, sir.”

Armin was completely unprepared to get up into her father’s face, but that’s where he was.

“You’re an undeserving child. I don’t know why my daughter would possibly want to risk everything we have to bed a big mouthed piece of shit like you.” He held on tight to his cane. “I could easily pull her out of your project-”

Before Armin could respond, Mr. Leonhardt erupted into another round of coughs. Armin thought it was rather convenient. _You’re the one who doesn’t deserve her._

Her father hadn’t even settled down when Annie got up from the couch, standing there ridgid. She stared at her father, her emotionless expression breaking in a way Armin had never seen.

“I’m sorry for letting you down, papa.” She took in an audible gulp. “Auf wiedersehen.” She turned to Armin, motioning for him to get up and follow her out. He hesitantly nodded, grabbing their coats as he fumbled to catch up.

“Annie,” He pleaded, as soon as they felt the fresh December air. “Annie, I’m so sorry. I...I can’t believe I gave in like that, and you ended up getting hurt. I just couldn’t stand to hear him talk about you in that way. I...please forgive me.”  

She was silent, back turned to him as she adjusted her cloche hat. Annie crouched down on the sidewalk, hugging her stomach.

“Annie…” He felt a prominent lump in his throat. _You useless idiot, why couldn’t you stay quiet?_ Armin hesitated before going up and placing his hand on her trembling shoulder.

He almost put his arms around her, but instead Annie stood back up. Slow and shaky, but breathing at least.

Nothing prepared him for what she did next.

The wail that came out of Annie’s mouth, as she hurled a rock at the house they’d just left, was so unlike anything he’d heard from her, he wondered if she had been momentarily possessed. He was too shocked to even react immediately.

She picked another rock up off the ground and repeated the action, hissing as she missed her target; the beautiful, stained glass window that adorned the front door.

“Annie!” Armin finally shouted, going in to grab her hand. She was strong however, and easily bumped him off to grab more rubble. “Annie, please! Stop!”

“GOD-” She threw one final rock, managing to hit the window finally. It didn’t break. It didn’t even crack. “G-Goddamn it-”

She stumbled backward, falling into Armin’s hold. Her hands grasped at the fabric of his coat, and Armin was once again shocked to see her crying, no, sobbing into his chest.  

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her tight, resting his chin on top of her head.

It was a few minutes before she was finally calm, and a few minutes still until she was ready to walk away toward the subway station.

Armin found that Annie was gripping his hand as if for dear life.

“I’m…”

“You don’t have to be sorry, tiger.” Her voice sounded scratchy, but was returning to its usual melodious monotone. “I’ve never actually seen someone stand up to him like that...you’re scrawny, but you sure as hell have guts.”

Armin cocked an eyebrow, but looked down to her and smiled.

“Thank you, bearcat.” He said, producing an airy little snicker from her. They walked down into the station, catching the train just as it came in. No one noticed Annie, and he silently thanked the heavens for that one. As it wasn’t too crowded at that hour, they sat near the doors. Annie rested her head on Armin’s shoulder, and he was quick to wrap his arm around her. They were silent, but it was a peaceful silence, as the train started to move.

“You know…” She began, voice low as the car moved. “When I was 8 I came down with a mild case of diphtheria. My throat was killing me, and I had my fifth performance ever the next day. I refused to get out of bed, and my father shouted at me. How, since my mother passed, it was my responsibility to help support us. How it was selfish of me to think of breaks and days off. So I performed like hell that next day and got my first standing ovation.”

She went quiet again, and Armin squeezed her tight. _Well, our first outside date’s a bit of a mess, huh? ...Wait._

He stuck his hands into the inside pocket of his coat, and felt the large wad of cash Jean had stuck there before he left. He smiled bright, whispering a cheer under his breath. _Jean Kirstein, I owe you._

“Annie, do you mind if we make a quick stop?”

* * *

 

The hustle and bustle of the Great White Way was something Annie had grown used to, and even a little fond of. She frequented broadway in her Vaudeville years. That area of the city was filled with so much life and sound, even Annie could feel uplifted.

Lights filled the street up and down. A musician in front of the New Amsterdam theater played a jazz rendition of Christmas carols on his saxophone. Annie could feel the corners of her lip pull into a smile.

“Do you mind telling me why we’re here, Mr. Arlert?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at Armin’s knowing grin.

“Don’t cast a kitten, you’ll see in a moment.” He shrugged, and really played up the cheer. Annie found it incredibly suspicious. “Just something I thought you, as a former little ballerina, would enjoy.”

“Would I? Hm.” She linked her arm with his, reveling in her rare moment of public obscurity. Whatever he was trying to pull, it was already working. The anxiety and anger from the last hour was vanishing fast. Armin Arlert, she’d come to realize, had a talent for making her forget about all her troubles. In a moment of weakness, she reached up and pushed stray pieces of blonde hair out of his face, readjusting his flat cap as well. “Ah. Such a cute face. I can see why people would question your age so easily.”

“Heeey, be nice. I’m trying to spoil you here.” He playfully booped her nose, making Annie’s face scrunch in fake disgust. After a ten minute wait, they strolled up to the ticket counter. Armin reached into his pocket, pulling out a clip of cash that stunned her. _Where did you-?_  

“Two tickets to the six o’clock show, please? Thank you!” He paid up quick, and grabbed her hand as they made their way into the lobby. An usher stood by the door, and practically shoved a program into her hands.

Armin turned to face her, biting his lip as he tried to keep down his expectant smile.

“...Ah.” Her eyes went wide for a moment as she read over the title of the show again. _Swan Lake_ , as performed by the company of one of the most famous ballerina’s in the world. “Christ...Armin, you didn’t have to do this.”

“Of course I didn’t. I wanted to, though” He took one of Annie’s hands, squeezing lightly. “I remember putting a recording of it on the phonograph that first night I cooked for you. I couldn’t help but notice you hum along. Now I can’t help but think of you every time I hear it.”

Annie’s face grew red fast. A warmth burst in her chest, and she forced back the lump in her throat before looking back up at him.     

“You sentimental sap.” An unusually soft smile spread across her lips. Grasping his hand tight, she lead him into the theater and found their seats toward the back.

Apparently, neither of them were dressed for the occasion. The rows were lined with men and women in their best evening wear. Gowns that dragged on the floor and tailed tuxes, Armin chuckled to himself. “We may be a bit underdressed.”

“Really? Hadn't noticed.” She nudged his shoulder, and leaned against him as they sat. “That’s okay. If we look like bums, we look like bums together.”

“Ah, a woman after my own heart.”

They snickered to themselves, earning a muted dirty look from an old woman in front. They stifled their laughter and voices just in time for the lights to go down and the prologue to start.

Music filled every corner of the theater as the principal ballerina appeared on stage. It didn’t take long for Annie to get lost in all of it. The dancing, the music, the story, it all gave her an overwhelming sense of nostalgia.

She hadn’t realized how much she was squeezing Armin’s hand. She peeked up at him, more than happy to see him enjoying what must have been his first live theater performance. Seeing him so giddy, experiencing something completely new, brought an easy warmth to Annie’s chest once again. His smile was always so childlike in these situations. She’d turned back to the stage, eyes becoming misty as act two began. Annie felt chills the moment the Swan Queen’s melancholy leitmotif played through the air.

She took another quick peek at Armin. He was far more emotional than her. No doubt he followed the story easier than most people would if they were seeing it for the first time. It was strange, she thought, how the happiness of this one person was slowly becoming more important than anything else.

 _I love you._ In her head, it was as clear as day. The thought of saying it to him, however, weighed down on her tongue, keeping her mouth closed.

She found herself becoming more and more entranced with each act. By the time act four came around, she felt light. Like she was on stage once again. There was something to be said about the art of dance, and that was that Annie would have adored it, everything about it, were it not forced and guilted on her.

“Oh wow.” She heard Armin mumble as the music came to its climax. He looked at her, bashful with how much his eyes had watered up. “Don’t give me that look, it’s a beautiful story!”

“I know.” She smiled at him, and turned back to the stage. Her head rested on his shoulder. She felt so comfortable and dreamlike in that moment, she could’ve fallen asleep.

The thunderous applause that came with curtain closing was enough to bring her back. Armin was one of the hundreds giving a loud standing ovation.

Though reluctant at first, she soon joined him, smiling as she wiped away a stray tear. She stopped only to link her arm with Armin’s.

“Hey you,” She mumbled, just barely audible over everything. “Thank you.”

Armin looked down at her with a bright, teary smile. He bumped his forehead against hers, and kissed her nose. Before he could turn away, she tugged at his arm.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Bows had yet to start when they scampered out into the lobby hand in hand.

“You know,” Armin began, catching his breath. “ballet has a lot in common with film, don’t you think? Acting wise, I mean.” Annie listened to him with a smile on her face as they walked out into the open. The air was freezing, but she felt warm. “The fluid movements and pantomime. Both very visual. I can see why a lot of former ballerina’s have gone into film!”

“Mhmm.” She squeezed his hands, huddling against him as they waited for a taxi. His ramblings never failed to be entertaining. _Thank you._

“People assume acting in movies is just making faces, but it takes the whole body, you know? Body language can really make-or-break a performance in my opinion-Mm-”

If her father was right about one thing, Annie thought, it was that she was a selfish person. Out there in the open, no matter who was watching, she pulled him down and kissed him. There was nothing sloppy about it. No roughness, or over eagerness. She simply held him as close as she could, desperately wanting more.

Armin pushed away in a hurry, resting his forehead against hers. He was scarlet, looking at her with both confusion and affection.

“Annie, are you sure about-” Again, she cut him off with a kiss. It was all the answer he needed. They pulled apart only to breathe and laugh, before capturing each other's lips once again.

The crowds from inside the theater started to spill out, and Armin tugged down his hat in front of their faces as he kissed her deeply.

“Clever.” She teased, coming up for air once again.

The honking of a taxi could be heard, and they rushed off to catch it. Annie found herself trying and failing at keeping her hands off of him.

“Brooklyn, please!” Armin huffed, flashing the driver a smile. Annie could only wonder what face the driver made as Armin strategically stuck his hat right in Annie’s face.

“Slow down,” He teased, as Annie tugged him back and into her arms. She couldn’t help it. If there was one thing she was certain of in that moment, it was that she needed him. All of him. The closer, the better. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears as they got closer to his apartment, her eagerness and want almost getting out of hand.

Armin tipped the driver, and the two tumbled out of the taxi snickering hand in hand. With bated breath, they hurried up the steps and into the apartment they were alone with.

The moment the door closed, their lips had crashed together. She was practically clawing at his coat, fingers fumbling with the buttons as Armin worked on hers. Of course, their winter coats were only the first obstacle.

She grabbed his tie, pulling him into the bedroom. He couldn’t help but smile at her, especially as she pushed him onto his bed. Annie straddled his lap, kicking of her shoes in the process. He’d already taken care of his.

She had her hands in his hair, and panted against his lips. Armin’s hands were occupied with her back, frantically trying to find the little buttons of her dress. The complicated designs of women’s fashion were currently the bane of his existence.

Annie pulled away with a snicker, resting her head against his shoulder.

“Let me.” She sat up straight, meeting his eyes as she unbuttoned her day dress. As it slipped off her shoulders, Armin’s eyes went wide. His breathing pace picked up, and he gently leaned up to capture her lips again.

“Wow,” He breathed, smiling against her lips. He kissed down her jaw and pressed his lips against her neck, reveling the gasps it produced. Annie tilted her head back, a smile growing wide on her face as he continued to pepper her neck in kisses. It was her turn to fumble with buttons, her hands shaky as she started to see the skin of his chest. For all he’d seen of her, she’d never gotten this much from him. Her already red cheeks flushed. Armin started to loosen his tie, pulling it over his head as he tossed it to the side, eyes intense on hers as he did so. Annie was quick to pull the rest of his shirt off, staring intently, yet sheepishly at his bare chest.

“Not much of a show, hm?” He mumbled, leaning his forehead against hers. Annie simple smiled, and pushed him back as she kissed him again.

“It’s a lot for me.” She whispered, heating up at the sound of her own sap.

In a matter of moments, they were both down to their undergarments. Armin had a hard time keeping his hands off of her garters and thighs, just as Annie had a hard time trying to not focus too much on the very obvious arousal in his boxer shorts. As if she could judge. She wanted nothing more than to make every stitch between them disappear.

Armin flipped them over, and Annie found herself surrounded completely by him. The heat and weight of his body against hers made her sink into the sheets. It was almost exactly what she craved.

He began kissing down her neck again, however he went further. His lips pressed against her sternum, stopping only once they met the top of her step-in. Annie reached out to unbuckle her garters, but he stopped her.

“Now let me.” He pushed himself up and moved himself down. His hands quickly snapped her garters off, resting them on the floor next to the rest of their clothes. Now, came the matter of her stockings. The smile on his face widened, and Annie could see a plot forming. He pressed his lips against the top of her thighs, causing her to gasp at the unexpected sensation. Slowly, he started to roll the hosiery down. He pressed kisses against every new patch of skin, smiling as he moved down. Annie’s breathing was becoming more audible, and he loved it. As soon as he got to her ankle, he removed the rest and repeated the action on her other leg.

“Good thing you’re short, or this would take a while.” He always knew how to make her laugh. The tension she had in her chest eased as she tried to muffle herself. She hadn’t even noticed her hands gripping on to the sheets.

There was a sense of relief when Armin came back up to her, capturing her lips in an increasingly sloppy way.

“Ah-” Now that was something new. Pressed up against her, she felt Armin roll his hips against hers. Her thighs squeezed together around his waist, trying to squirm. “Y-You haven't done this before, have you?”

“Of course not.” He snickered, speaking between kissed on her neck. “I have, however, stumbled across some less than clean books. So...I, uh, might not be the greatest to-”

“I haven’t either.” She cut in, meeting his eyes. “I don’t care how good or bad it might be. It’s just me. And all I want, is you.”

He bit his lip, holding her face for a moment before pressing a kiss to her nose.

“And...you want this?”

“More than you know, Mr. Arlert.”

The tone of her voice made him shudder, and she couldn’t help but smile. Annie took the opportunity to flip them over again, and straddled his waist as he lay flat on his back. She started to feel hot under her step-in. It was on for far too long, in her opinion. Armin must have shared the testament, due to his hands slipping up her thighs, thumbs teasing the edges. Annie smiled down at him, and shrugged the straps down before it fell altogether.

As she pulled it off completely, a wave of nerves washed over her. This was real, and it hit her.

“You can always say no. We don’t have to do this.” His tone was sweet, reassuring. His finger gingerly traced up and down her bare arms, giving her chills. She answered him with a hesitant, but firm, roll of her hips.

The gasps and moaned he let out brought her confidence inching back. His head had thrown back against the pillows. And Annie certainly loved the sight.

She leaned down over him, kissing his neck before taking skin in between her teeth.

“Nn- _ahh!_ ” And to her pleasure, he seemed to enjoy it. She heard him gasp her name, and that was enough to start sucking. His hips bucked up against her, and Annie lost her concentration. As he continued to buck up against her, she returned the gesture in full.

She was below him again before she even realized. His hands rubbed down her sides, resting against her upper thighs.

“C-Can I?” He asked, hands inching inward. Annie tilted her head, unsure of what he meant. Armin let out a nervous half-laugh, and licked his lip, glancing down and back up, hoping it would hint to her what he was hoping for. He licked his lower lip again before taking it between his teeth. When Annie didn’t immediately respond, his embarrassment got the better of him as he buried his face in her neck. He pressed a kiss to the crook, and he laughed softly. “You know…?”

“.... _Oh._ ” She breathed out heavily as she understood. The thought of it alone made her ache, and she didn’t even realize the word “yes,” slip from her mouth.

His mouth immediately began to latch against expanses of skin, nipping and playfully sucking until he ended between her thighs, his teeth grazing the inside. Annie was squirming, and set her legs apart. He inhaled, slowly, letting the intense smell take him in. The cool air brushing against her made her hands dart to his hair, tangling the locks between her thin fingers. He groaned, and moved her legs out further, letting her core bloom. His breathing was rigid, and he felt her face go red.

Annie squirmed, becoming impatient.

“ _A-Anghh,_ ” She groaned as his flat tongue pressed against her. It was warm, and wet, adding even more to her own. Armin was whining as well, and he wrapped his arms around her legs, pulling her in closer to his mouth, as he let his mouth work on her.

He felt her opening pulse as his tongue teased, and he had to let his tongue press in a bit. Her high pitched squeak immediately made him start kissing her thighs again.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He didn’t wait for an answer, pressing his tongue against her again, licking upwards slowly. She spasmed then, throwing a hand from his hair down to the mattress. He mimicked the motion and her back arched. He had noticed a little button between her legs was causing her to spasm, and he began to lick and suck at it. He hadn’t a clue as to what it was, but her loud noises only muffled by her hand made him grin.

Annie felt her abdomen burn, as buzzing happened between her ears. _“Ahh! Nngh, yes, yes!!”_ Her pleas sounded like hiccuping sobs, as she rutted up against his mouth until she felt herself collapse against the bed. She was roughly panting, her voice flickering in. Armin stood over her again, wiping his mouth with his hand, flushed completely red. Probably due to the suffocation, but it didn’t seem like he minded all that much.

“Thank you,” he whispered to her before taking her lips with his own. Annie felt completely out of breath, yet knew she wanted more. Her arms wrapped around his back as her rather shaky legs tightened around his waist. She wanted him inside her, especially after that.

“Please,” She whispered against his lips, eyes half-lidded. He held her face, brushing his thumbs against her flushed cheeks as he nodded.

“As you wish.” He smiled, kissing her again before pressing his hand against the inside of her thigh. Annie was more than willing to open up, and watched as Armin’s face burned red the moment he started to line himself up with her.

“P-Please tell me if it hurts?” He murmured, shaking a little as he started to push in.

A loud squeak came from her lips, and she winced. Armin stopped, head deep. His was panting, but he wouldn’t move unless she gave a cue. She nodded her head, digging her nails into his shoulders as she held her breath. He murmured into her ear, “We can stop if you want.”

Annie shook her head, a little smile pulling at her lips. “Don’t stop. It’s okay.”

Through lapsing breath, their lips met with an intensity neither anticipated. He pushed in further, panting and gasping between their lips. Annie’s legs wrapped tightly around him, as if she was afraid he’d somehow get away from her. Hands tangled into his hair, and it was becoming difficult to distinguish whose moans belonged to who. Everything, her entire body, felt hot. Her throat especially, down to her collars. It didn’t help his lips were stopping there, nipping. His hips were bruising her thighs, and the pain from that ebbed the pain of penetration. She grew hotter down there, and whined loudly as he moved slowly.

Her own desperation caught on, and she rolled her hips up against him fast, physically begging him for more. Pressure built in her abdomen with each thrust. The little motion from her had caused him to happily pick up pace, Annie’s breath catching in her throat as her tension piled up.

Finally, she felt completely light, as it took her. She collapsed from the high quickly, noticing in a daze he was just around the corner. His hips became erratic, his hot breath against her ear made her smile. She squeezed her thighs around him tighter, and he let himself finish. He let his head fall against her shoulder as he rode it out, and pulled out, slowly, shuddering.

For a couple minutes, they stayed like that. Catching their breaths, cooling down internally. Their bodies felt cold as they laid against each other.

“....Heh,” Annie was the one to break the silence, much to Armin’s surprise. He peeked up at her as she cracked into an incredibly infectious giggle fit. He leaned down, kissing her cheek before rolling off of her.

Annie was quick to lay back on him, however, and rested her head against his chest. Her laughter was barely calmed down.

“Well, I guess we _have_ slept together now. Thank you for ruining my virtue.” She teased, squeezing him tight as Armin let out a chuckle.

“You said ‘please.’ You know I can’t say no to you.”

“Hm. That’s true. How selfish of me.” She flipped over onto her stomach, legs tangling with his as he brushed the hair out of her eyes. “It isn’t like you wanted to stop.”

Armin wrapped his arms around her tight, peppering kisses all over her face as she chuckled. A familiar warmth spread in Annie’s chest along with the butterflies in her stomach.

The room was lit solely by the moonlight reflecting off of the falling snow outside, making the peace of that moment seem like something out of a romance she’d starred in at one time or another. Minus the sinning.

It was enough for her to conquer one weakness and fear.

“Armin?”

“Hm?” His face nuzzled into her messy hair.

“I love you.”

Armin stiffened for a moment, before moving to look at her face. He was smiling. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations to Armin on discovering what few men in his time had; The female orgasm.  
> I listened to Young and Beautiful while writing a good 60% of this chapter. It probably shows.  
> The other 40% were slightly unsettling 1900's era recordings of Christmas carols.  
> Play 'em for your kids! It won't cause nightmares at all.  
> Feedback encouraged! I hope you've enjoyed so far!  
> Also shout out to my friend for helping me write the nsfw scene, as I am a huge baby. You know who you are.
> 
> History and slang notes:  
> Darb- Great  
> Old Money-  
> New Money-  
> "Ich bin es"- "It's me"  
> “Ann, was hat dich heirhin verschlagan?”- "What are you doing here?"  
> "Wer ist das?"- "Who is that?"  
> "Löwenbaby"- "lion cub"  
> "schlampe"- "tramp"  
> Diphtheria- an infection of the nose and throat that nowadays is easily preventable with vaccines, but unfortunately for Annie, that wasn't the case back then. It's pretty gross looking, so I wouldn't suggest throwing it into google images.  
> Great White Way- Another snappy nickname for Broadway


	11. Let's Misbehave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas Time in the City.

**December, 1923**

The closest word to describe Armin’s feelings when he first woke up that morning was euphoric. Heaven above touched Armin’s soul. He was certain of it. Though the more accurate and literal feeling was breathlessness, mostly due to Annie’s odd sleeping habit of laying on top of him like a rock. Not that he minded in anyway. It was worth it, to have her so close.

Memories of the previous night filled his mind as he laid back down and closed his eyes. Her skin against his, bated breaths and panting filling the hot evening air of the room they had to themselves. Seeing Annie completely, in more ways than one. And the two extra rounds of nookie after the first that were a lot less timid or hesitant.

Overall, things he was certain he’d have to go to confession for sometime down the line. It’s what his dearly departed mother would have wanted.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her, and was happy to spend another hour or two napping there with Annie. It’s not like they had anything planned for that day, and they were far too wrapped up in each other to care if they did.

He laid there in a semiconscious state for as long as Annie needed a rest. When he felt the literal weight of another human being stir and lift off his chest, he himself finally started to physically awaken.

Letting out a yawn, he sat up in bed and took a stretch. Armin smiled wide as he noted Annie quickly buttoning up one of his shirts. To be fair, neither of them had gotten up to put on pajamas. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was getting a little chilly. Annie’s back was turned to him, and he hesitated to speak up and alarm her. She slipped on her step-in underneath the shirt, and walked to the window near Armin’s wardrobe. Frost covered the pane, and he saw the smile on her face grow when she wiped it away, revealing the heavy falling snow outside.

Armin Arlert had seen few things more beautiful, and adorable, than Annie Leonhardt standing giddy in front of a window, hair messy and wearing one of his scattered button down shirts.  

“It sure is pretty, hm?” He spoke up, smiling when Annie jumped a little in surprise. “And it’s even prettier since we’re not walking through it.”

Annie stared at him, and was quick to crack a grin. “Morning, tiger.”

“Morning, baby vamp. I’m surprised to see you up before the crack of noon.”

“I had a good night sleep.” Her arms crossed, and she walked over to straddle his lap over the covers. Annie held his face, squishing his cheeks between her hands. Her eyes and nose crinkled at how silly, yet happy he looked. “Where do you get off callin’ me a baby vamp, hm?”

“You can’t expect me to call you an ingenue after last night.”

“Oh my god.” She pinched his cheeks, and despite her furrowed brows she stole a kiss before getting back up.

He watched her trot around the room, picking up all the scattered clothes they’d thrown around that night and reorganizing her suitcase. Annie tucked her hair behind her ear, as she looked at the suitcase, before continuing to stuff her clothes in. She was beautiful. The way sleep had rustled her hair, her piercing eyes, Armin’s heart was pounding faster and faster.

“Mind if I use your shower, tiger?”

“N-Not at all!” He beamed, leaning forward in bed as he continued to watch her. The comfortable silence they fell in as she gathered up a few things was a welcome one. If there was one thing he couldn’t help but gleefully play over and over again in his head, it was the three words she’d said to him first.

 _I love you,_ he thought. _I can’t believe you love me._

If she still suspected he had ulterior motives of any kind when he hired her, which he doubted by the incredibly light and sincere look on her face, he would have no way to explain himself now.

She turned her back to him, checking her disheveled reflection in the mirror with a small glower at the makeup smudges surrounding her eyes.

_Even like this, you’re too beautiful._

“Marry me.”

Armin was never one to let his heart cloud his head. The words

had slipped from his mouth without his knowledge. He slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes going wide when he realized they were spoken. He didn’t regret them, however.

Annie went completely stiff.

“...Annie, marry me.” He spoke again, his voice low and controlled. Fear and embarrassment melted into a hesitant confidence.

That little bit of confidence wavered as the moment stretched, and Annie forced down an audible gulp.

“S-Sorry, I...I wasn’t going to, I just…”

“I’m sorry.” She finally cut in. Annie turned, and slowly made her way back to his side. “I love you. But I can’t. Not right now, anyway. It’s just not a good time, I...I’m sorry.”

“No, no! Don’t be sorry, it was stupid of me to blurt that out!” He forced a snicker, and put a tentative hand on top of hers. “Even I say impulsive things sometimes I guess, heh.”

She turned her hand over, lacing her fingers tightly with Armin’s. Despite an underlying sulleness, her lips pulled into a smile. She leaned forward, brushing the messy blond hair out of his eyes before capturing him in a sweet, soft kiss. Her hands held his face, and Armin melted eagerly into her touch.

“I won’t be too long. I promise.”

With one last kiss, Annie hopped off of his lap and into the bathroom.

The apartment was silent when the door clicked, save for the sound of running water only minutes later.

Armin’s chest tightened. As if a freight train burst through his wall, everything seemed to crash on his mind at once.

“uuugggGGHHHH, YOU IDIOT.” He fell back onto the mattress, and grabbed the pillow out from under his head. He could only hope it would suffocate him when he shoved it over his face. “You fucking MORON why did you-?!”

Armin almost felt like a child again, his fists punching the mattress as he groaned loudly into the pillow that muffled his sounds. His stomach churned with increasing embarrassment with every little anxiety started to fester. He went quiet, thoughts circling wildly.  

_What if she didn't mean it? What if I screwed it all up? She would never want someone like me. I've ruined it. Soiled it. What if this screws over our careers? What if-_

“Armin Alexander Arlert, you shameful boy, cover yourself this instant!”

Eren’s voice broke that silence like a chair through a window. Armin shot up, his pillow falling onto his lap. At his bedside stood Eren and Mikasa, the former holding a hand over a rather passive Mikasa’s eyes. Armin noticed Mikasa rolling her eyes beneath his hand, and pulled his hand away.

“I leave you alone for one weekend,” Mikasa playfully scolded. Her eyes noticed the dress on the chair, and she recognized the sound of running water through the moaning pipes. “Well.”

“I could say the same to you,” Armin spoke, tapping at the right side of his neck. “Tighten that scarf up.”

Mikasa did just that with a smirk, and Armin couldn’t help but notice the silver band around her left ring finger. He smiled to himself, though he could also feel his throat tightening.

“Congratulations, I hope Eren was at least romantic about all of it?”  

“I was damn romantic!” Eren was beaming, his arm around Mikasa’s waist as he beat his chest with the other hand. “We took a little evening walk on the beach, and I got down on one knee right as it started snowing. We were insured before I even got all the words out!”

He leaned over and kissed her cheek, and Mikasa was quick to turn pink.

“He started crying. He also tried to pick me up and carry me over to the house, but he was shivering so hard I ended up carrying him.”

“You didn’t have to add that part!”

“Why would I leave it out? You’re a goof, Eren, no need to hide it.”

Armin felt a genuine smile pull at his lips, watching his two best friends banter and tease each other. The knot in his stomach started to loosen up.

“Have any plans for the ceremony? When’s the wedding?” He asked, leaning over the side of the bed to grab his shirt.

“Next week!” Eren pipped up quick, as Mikasa was distracted with trying to find something at the bottom of her purse. “Christmas eve. Figured we’d save on decorations, see?”

“That’s….a bit soon.” He cocked an eyebrow, drawing his gaze to Mikasa. “How far along is her condition, hm?”

He just as soon felt a balled up pair of socks hit his head.

“She’s not knocked up, bimbo! We just didn’t want to deal with all the hooplah.” Eren set their bags down, and turned his attention to the radio, fiddling with the switches as he continued to speak. “I mean, why wait, ya know? We’ve been together long enough. We have my ma’s dress she can wear, and I already own a suit. The only important member of our family to invite is you.”

Armin’s cheeks grew pink. “That really means a lot.”

“One more thing,” Mikasa spoke up, a rolled up newspaper clutched tightly in her hands. “We spotted this on a newsstand after breakfast. Check out the top right corner.”

She handed him that morning's copy of the New York Times, and his focus immediately landed on where she said. There, in ink, the image of Erwin Smith sat down at his desk signing whatever papers he needed to.

 _“Under Dog Studio Goes From Poverty Row to Paramount Competitor!”_ Read the headlines. Armin perked on up, and sped to the page the article was on. It was an entire spread, and he couldn’t have been more giddy.

“Read it all,” Eren prodded, leaning forward in anticipation. “You’re in it.”

Armin cleared his throat, and eagerly read it outloud to his friends.

“‘Passed the pearly gates of Paramount and vast estates of the Pickfords and Fairbanks’ lay the groundwork of what could one day become legend. Maria Rose studios was nothing but a grungy old shed when Mr. Erwin Smith took over nearly four years ago. What began as just another independant studio on poverty row has recently been cranking out a surprising number of box office and critical hits,’” Armin briefly looked up at the two leaning over, giving them an excited smile before reading on. “‘In the past year alone Mr. Smith has managed to take on the star power of some of the biggest names in town. Ethereal Ms. Christa Lenz, formerly of Metro, signed on for a three picture deal. And soon to follow was the handsome and charming Jean Kirschtein, who is looking forward to an increase in dramatic and challenging roles. Most recently, and most shockingly, it has been reported that the stunningly talented, yet quiet Ms. Annie Hart, voted a fan favorite among readers of various magazines, has parted rather suddenly from her incredibly lucrative contract with Paramount to make films with the humble Maria Rose. Rumor has is those at the higher echelons of Paramount are none too happy with this, but we couldn’t be more excited.’”   

“Yeah, I’m sure she’s in it for the money, eh, Mr. Arlert?” Eren teased, poking at the rather prominent hickey at the base of Armin’s neck. Armin swatted him away and continued.

“‘’It all comes down to business,’ Remarked Mr. Smith at a recent interview. ‘One needs to take into account the needs and wants of the people, as well as the changing world. The occasional risk is necessary to make it in this town.’ While we certainly hope the board of review agrees with him, if you ask us, any risk is worth it if they continue to release the quality films they’ve been releasing this past year. He went on to tell us that, from what he could see, 1924 might be the most prolific and productive year for the fledgling studio. He reports promise and a youthful mindset in the form of an incredibly young director he had recently signed on. ‘He just turned 21. A boy certainly ahead of his time and his peers, though I don’t mean that in a way that dissuades anyone that may be reading this.’’” Armin could feel his face heat up. He questioned if Erwin was talking about someone else, perhaps. “‘We couldn’t be less dissuaded! While he refuses to tell us anything about the picture being made, he did say that the latest it will be released is in August. There’s going to be a lot of hype for this young, Mr…’”

_Ah._

Armin set the paper down for a moment, his lips flattening into a thin line.

“Well?” Eren spoke up, raising his eyebrows. “What’s the deal here?”

With a sigh, Armin lifted the paper back up.

“‘young, Mr. _Arthur_ Arlert.’” Once again, Armin set the paper down and sighed. It seemed the world was simply not on his side that morning. “They got my last name and first initial right. I guess that’s somethin’.”

Eren snickered, and gave Armin a reassuring slap on the back. “They’ll feel silly when you’re on the cover of all the papers.”

He gave his friends a half-hearted smile.

The sound of hustle and bustle filled the room as the two started to unpack their things and straighten up their side of the room.

“So,” Mikasa began, picking up a sock with two fingers. “Other than breaking a few carnal laws, what did you two get up to last night?”

“We decided maybe it was time to finally kill a man.”

“I hope you tossed the body in the ocean.”

“Yeah, Eren dumped the body for us when you were at the beach.” Armin couldn’t help but notice his two friends stifling their laughs.

“Well, it seems like you two had a nice time by the smile on your face.” Mikasa stated before furrowing her brows. “...But something’s wrong. What happened?”

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t really even know what I was thinking. I pulled an Eren this morning.”

The offended look on Eren’s face made Armin laugh. Enough to lift his spirits, even just a little.

“I just….” He wrung his hands together, biting his lip. Armin could still hear the shower running, much to his relief. “I asked her to marry me. The words just flew out of my mouth. Not one of my more clever moments.”

“What?!” The other two burst out in unison, with looks on their faces that couldn’t quite decide on appalled or amused.

“It’s just…!” Armin let out a groan, and buried his face in his hands. “I-I knew she would say no the moment the words came out of my mouth. Hell, I didn’t even mean to. Last night was just...incredible. I love her. I do want to marry her. But I understand as well as she does that now is anything but the right time. I guess...it was the heat of the moment.”

“Oh dear…” Mikasa moved back to Armin’s bed, and looked like she was about to sit before the sound of running water abruptly stopped. Slowly, eyes on the bathroom door, she got back up to continue her chore.

There was a cloud of steam as soon as the bathroom door opened.

Thankfully, Annie was clothed.

“Oh,” She peeped, slightly jumpy when she saw the two extra people in the room out of the corner of her eye. “I didn’t realize we were letting in lodgers, Mr. Arlert.”

Even after that rather awkward conversation they had before, his heart still skipped a beat when her eyes met his. She’d certainly found the time to do her makeup when initially out of the shower, though her pinned back hair was still damp. Her blue house dress was only about halfway buttoned.

He, on the other hand, still sat disheveled in their, his, bed. Only now did he move to at least grab an undershirt and boxers.

_I love you._

“We have to, unfortunately. This is now a honeymoon suite.” He smiled brightly as she walked over toward him, grabbing his hand and pulling him in for a kiss. _I just wish it was for us._

“Congratulations,” She said as she turned around, letting Armin button up the rest of her house dress. “I’m sure you celebrated in the holiest of ways.”

“Well you two can forget about breakfast. We were nice enough to bring you freeloaders pastries, but me and Mikasa are eating them now.”

Armin slipped on his pants and snickered, eager to stretch out a bit after a somewhat stressful morning. Annie pulled him up from the mattress, yanking him right into a well needed, deep kiss. Despite the company, she wrapped her arms tight around his neck.

“Maybe you and I can go to a less morbid park today?” She asked, her voice low as their foreheads pressed together. “I bet I can easily get us into the Central Park Menagerie.”

“I’d very much like that.” The smile on Armin’s face grew, and he leaned in to kiss her again before the shrill ringing of the telephone spooked them both.

Eren was the first to reach the desk.

“Hello? You’ve reached the Jaeger-Ackerman-Arlert residence.” Armin and Mikasa both always found it a little funny just how professional he sounded when talking on the phone. “Come again now? Wait, how the hell did you get this number? Yes, I know operators exist, but- Okay, okay! Sorry ma’am. Annie?”

Annie perked up, tilting her head with narrowed eyes.

“Who is it?”

“Someone named Ms. Mina Carolina. She says your father wants to speak with you?”

Annie took in a sharp breath, the look on her face just barely staying neutral.

“Does he, now…”  Her fists balled. Armin could hear the cracking of knuckles, and concern quickly grew on his face. Slowly, she walked toward the phone. The other three could swear the temperature in the room dropped a couple degrees.

Eren handed the receiver and mouthpiece to Annie. With barely two strides, he hurried back to his fiance’s side, as if afraid the actress in front of him was going to cut him with a glare.

Much to his relief, and to Armin’s, Annie simply took a deep breath, and hung up the phone without so much as putting the receiver near her ear.

After what he witnessed between her and her father the other night, he couldn’t blame her.

A tense silence filled the room.

“Mikasa,” Annie broke in, after almost a minute. “Do you have a spare light?”

“Uh...yeah, hold on.” Mikasa dug through her purse, revealing a cigarette accompanied by a small box of matches. She handed them over to an oddly eager Annie, one eyebrow cocked as the other girl took in an audible gulp.

Clutching the items in her hand, she turned to Armin with a small, shaky grin.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He nodded his head, and the three watched her go out the door.

Eren and Mikasa turned their gazes to Armin, his shoulders hunched and eyebrows raised.

“I didn’t know she smokes.” Eren remarked, his arm wrapping around Mikasa’s waist.

Armin pushed his hair back out of his eyes, his shoulders hunched as concern once again grew across his face.

“She doesn’t.”

* * *

 _Out of sight, out of mind_. That’s what Annie kept reminding herself over the next week. She didn’t dare step foot near the Upper West Side. She didn’t care to ever answer the phone if it rang. Rarely did she look at the covers of fan magazines, for fear that they might be running some trashy story on her. According to the papers, her contract dispute with Paramount was already well known, and the last thing wanted was to read about it in reporter Hitch Dreyse’s gossipy voice.

This was her vacation, Armin reminded her, and spending Christmas even more stressed out than she already was couldn’t have been healthy. Brooklyn wasn’t a studio, and the people in Armin’s neighborhood mostly kept to themselves.

With the exception of the cafe incident. But even that wasn’t bad. The working class audience was a joy, compared especially to the in-your-face reporters and moral guardians. And especially to her biggest critic, one Mr. Leonhardt.

So she spent the days distracting herself by doing something she’d always hated doing as a child; sewing.

Not her first choice, of course. And certainly not the only activity, especially since she was with Armin. But the one that really served to numb her mind. Mikasa sat at her electric singer sewing machine for hours a night for those seven days leading up to Christmas eve, modifying and hemming the skirt and bodice of Eren’s mother’s old wedding dress.

“Carla didn’t leave much behind,” She’d told Annie, who volunteered as her assistant. “but we found this in the depths of her closet. A little out of fashion, but that’s what we’re here to fix.”  

Mikasa Ackerman was surprisingly good company, as well. They had a lot in common, particularly their hatred of small talk. She was quiet, more so than Annie, and very thoughtful. Incredibly strong, physically and mentally, as well. At first Annie found her more than a little annoying in how protective she was of Armin.

The woman was icy as hell to her that first time Annie had dinner with them all, and she certainly remembered that. But she learned just as well to understand it. Mikasa was, is, simply concerned for the wellbeing of someone she sees as a brother. Annie couldn’t blame her for being a little suspicious of an actress.

By Christmas eve, Annie could have sworn she may have made a friend too.

“I’m surprised they were even able to get a church today.” She commented as she sat in the front pew, arm in arm with Armin. Garland and bows lined the rows of seats, and Eren bounced in place on the altar next to several bouquets of  poinsettias.

“It doesn’t get full till midnight mass.” He shifted, placing his arm tight around her.

Armin looked positively misty eyed. The moment his best friend walked out in his finest suit, spats unbuttoned and bowtie undone, he was an emotional sap. Well, Annie couldn’t tease him for it too much. He’d seen the relationship between Eren and Mikasa from it’s blossoming, with everything they’d gone through together. It was a wedding that was a long time coming.

Hell, even Annie couldn’t help but feel excited for the two. She leaned over, and used her handkerchief to dab at the increasingly wet corners of Armin’s eyes.

When the organ started playing, echoing off the walls of the mostly empty church, the two guests turned around to see Mikasa making her way down the aisle. Accompanied by the tune of of the bridal march, she looked downright radiant. Her hand-me-down satin dress has been hemmed to reach about mid calf, and taken out at the waist for a more washboard, instyle look. Complimenting it all was the lace Juliet-cap veil. Her strides were elegant, evenly paced. Yet Annie could see how she clutched onto her bouquet of red roses for dear life. It almost made her laugh. Not so stoic after all.

Eren, of course, was on the verge of being a blubbering mess. The smile he wore was face splitting, but damn genuine. Even from where she was standing, Annie could see the swell of tears in his eyes. On the other hand, the floodgates had opened for Armin long ago.

Annie could definitely see why. His “almost-sister” was being married to his best friend. Gingerly, she took his hand and squeezed.

_I can see why you want this, tiger._

With a smile on her face, she let out a sigh. Mikasa reached the altar and took Eren’s hand in her own. Together, they faced the priest, both of them standing proud as he spoke and recited their vows. The two, of course, speaking them when necessary.

“I take thee to be my wedded wife…”

“I take thee to be my wedded husband…”

“...to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor and to cherish, till death us do part,”

“The rings?” The priest asked, leading to an incredibly flustered Eren as he patted himself down, cursing under his breath when his pockets turned up empty.

Armin, luckily, was about as best a best man one could have.

“Don’t leave something so important on your nightstand.” He teased, shuffling up quickly to hand the ring to Eren, who beamed through the embarrassed flush on his face. Mikasa let out a slight snicker, and took his hands tightly in hers. Her hands were far steadier than Eren’s, and that was apparent the moment they slipped their rings on each other’s fingers.

“I now pronounce you man and wife, Eren and Mikasa Jaeger, you may now kiss the-”

It was almost a blessing Eren’s mother wasn’t there to see her son cut the priest off, yank Mikasa in by the waist, and dip her there in front of everyone, laying on a kiss that was anything but modest. He would have earned himself a slap upside the head.

Armin, however, smiled ear to ear and chuckled along with his standing ovation. Annie could tell by the look on his face that his cheeks were strained tight, almost painful, with how happy he was, seeing his best friends be married. He wiped his tears with his sleeve, and rolled his eyes as they continued to kiss. She stood up as well, linking her arm with his as she clapped.

“HUP-!” Eren’s voice strained just a tad as he scooped Mikasa up, determined to carry her out of the church like the proper gentleman he damn well was.

“I can carry you, you know.” The bride teased, wrapping her arms around his neck. Eren replied with what could only be described as a strained, desperate echo of _‘Noo!!’_

“We’ll meet you guys down at the usual joint, yeah?” Armin called out, following the pair down the steps of the church, arm in arm with Annie. Mikasa gave him a nod, and kissed Eren before he got the chance to put her down in front of their car.

“They’re getting their pictures taken,” He whispered to Annie, the tone in his voice overwhelmingly pleasant. “Then we’re celebrating at a speakeasy near Park Slope. Connie and Sasha perform there every night they’re here!”

“Oh? Truth be told, I don’t go into those joints very often. They’re on my restriction list.”

“Me neither, to be honest.” He chuckled, squeezing her arms. “But you and I can misbehave for a night, I’d say. Is it not a holiday?”

A soft smile grew on Annie’s face. There it was. The easy warmth and comfort she cherished. She nodded her head, and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“You and I are past the point of simply misbehaving, Mr. Arlert.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry for how late this is. And how after the wait, it's a breather chapter. Finals week has been hell and I've had two 7-10 page papers to write since I published my last chapter. Luckily I'm just about at Christmas break, and I'll have the next chapter out in no time. Knock on wood. Thank you for bearing with me. I really do hope I've made you guys happy with this story and I also hope it's been genuinely good so far. Any way, happy holidays, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and all that jazz. It's back to Hollywood next time! Comments and feedback are encouraged!
> 
> Historical and Slang notes:  
> First, to clear something up: "But Katie, how can Eren and Mikasa, an interracial couple, freely get married in the year 1923?" I actually didn't Well, here's the thing; thankfully for both Eren and Mikasa, and for my plot outline, New York never had any anti-miscegenation laws! They were state laws, not national ones. So legally, no one can get in between them in New York. Thank goodness they decided to get married fast before heading back out West, because California, on the other hand, did have such laws until they were finally repealed in 1948.   
> Baby vamp- An attractive, sultry femme fatale  
> Insured- Engaged  
> Knocked up- Pregnant  
> Poverty Row- The string of small, independent, usually B-movie studios   
> Central Park Menagerie- Essentially the Central Park Zoo before it was just that  
> Speakeasy- A secret bar selling illegal liquor. Damn you, prohibition.   
> A good visual for Mikasa's look by the way. This was essentially the style throughout the 20s: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/11/1c/99/111c99b6e1c14e307960e550474d7ab1.gif


	12. Baby Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Air of Authority

Annie’s earliest memory was a happy one. Hell, it was downright flighty. Though if she didn’t know any better, she’d swear it was someone else's. She remembered a vibrant spring day in Bavaria, Germany, their little country cottage outside of Munich bustling with activity as her father, unrecognizable compared to the man she knew today, played his violin for a laughing four year old with platinum blonde hair. Her mother, Natasha, sweeped the floor and smiled, catching her daughter as she tripped over her small dancing feet. Annie didn’t always have the grace she was known for.

Only a week or two later, in April of 1906, her father frantically and solemnly packed as many of the family's belongings as he could before ushering the three of them onto the boat to New York City. It was such a sudden move, the four year old Annie could only sob and throw a fit as she was pushed on board.

It wouldn’t be till years later that she would find out her father’s reason was being overdue on several gambling debts, with no means to pay it all back.  _ Of course,  _ she thought,  _ it’s exactly like him. _

But back then, he was her entire world. Annie idolized the man. In her eyes,  Johann Leonhardt was a hardworking, heroic martyr who sacrificed fifteen hours a day, six days a week, working a life threatening factory job in the unfamiliar, unfriendly City of Manhattan. It was okay that they had to exchange their cozy country cottage for a two room tenement in New York's rough Lower East Side. It was okay that she barely got to see him or her mother. It was all to support their little family. 

When she did have time with him on Sundays, he would bring out his violin and get her to sing little tunes. They went for walks in the nearby working-class streets, and Annie never felt afraid of the strangers they passed.

Almost to a fault. She fondly remembered getting into a fight with a boy at the age of six, over something as silly as shoving her out of the way to get to an ice cream stand. Though, to be fair, he also poked fun at her slightly accented English. Annie was always exceptionally tough, and by the time her father pulled her off, the boy sustained three lost teeth and a scratch on his face. Annie, on the other hand, was simply left with a dirty dress and mud covered cheeks.

_ “Your mama won’t approve of the mess, but you have some impressive strength, little one.” He said, patting her head. “People should be more careful around a  _ _ Löwenbaby.” _

The pride in his eyes that day stuck out like nothing else. She would have done anything to see that look again. Yet, in her attempts to do so, she killed herself over it. Sore bleeding feet and an inability to breathe, yet she couldn't earn the smile she so desperately wanted to see. 

In the early spring of 1909, she saw the last of the father she idolized. Annie remembered the evening clearer than any other. She knew something was wrong when her parents didn’t come back to their little tenement by 10pm. The last thing her seven year old mind expected was that one of them would never come home again. 

It wasn't like she didn't understand death. Neighbors caught diseases and past on. Her mother even spent hours telling her about death. Everyone dies, and that's okay, it's part of life. But what she didn't understand was life being taken by someone else's hands. When the policeman sat her down, he spoke to her using the most plain language he could find. 

_“There was a fire in the garment factory your mother works in.” He began, a hand on each of her small shoulders._ _“Your momma tried to get out with others, but she wasn’t able to...She passed on. Sorry, kid.”_

He didn’t even stay a minute after. Annie was left to stand in the middle of the tenement, barely able to process what she heard.  _ She’s gone. She passed on.  _

_ Where’s papa?  _ Annie ran to the dusty window, and watery eyes scanned the crowded market street for any sign of the father she needed in that moment. 

Her mind foggy, she stepped back and stumbled onto the floor. The tiny living room felt both too big and far too suffocating. Her legs pulled into her chest, and Annie covered her head with her small hands. Outside, she could hear life on the street go on as normal.

For the first time in her life, Annie felt the smothering hold of isolation and loneliness. A feeling that would go on to become so familiar, she’d learn to live with it. 

It wouldn’t be till the next afternoon that her father stumbled home, hungover and ragged. He fell onto the small child bed, and met Annie’s eyes. There was no comfort in his stare. He looked hopeless. Practically dead himself. Annie stood there motionless, waiting for her father to say something, anything.

_ “Es ist kalt hier.” _ Was all he muttered, before slowly getting up and walking to the room he and his late wife had shared. Annie’s eyes followed his movements until her shut the door. Quickly, the girl trotted towards it, hope filling her heart that maybe, just maybe, in a few moments her hero would come out with blankets to wrap around his little daughter, and hold her for hours as they mourned together.

After two hours of shivering and waiting, she gave up. The chill was becoming unbearable. Annie despised the cold.

* * *

 

 

**January, 1924**

The studio lot was buzzing with life and noise the moment Armin walked in at 7:30am. Despite the early wake up call and head pounding amounts of activity around him, nothing could kill his good mood.

Principal filming was beginning that day. He could barely sleep the night before due to excitement, but it was no problem. With a large cup of coffee, and a shot of espresso for good measure, he was ready to take on the day.

For about two hours, he was practically alone on his own set. Other movies filmed around him, but he was sure to be thorough. Every mark and strike was checked out for each room, every costume inspected before his crew started to file on around 9am. Levi, surprisingly, was the first to step in. As if the man didn’t already look perpetually tired. Several of his own underlings followed suit, carrying stack upon stack of camera equipment and film cans.

Eren and Mikasa were among them, though Mikasa looked none too pleased about being bossed around by such a short fellow.

However, she volunteered to help Armin at all costs, and the new Mrs. Jaeger wasn’t about to break her promise.

It was an odd feeling for Armin to look at all the people filing into their section of the lot, many grown veterans, and realize that he was in charge of it all. Second only to the producer himself, Mr. Erwin Smith, who wasn’t even going to be there that day.

“Oy, boss!” He heard someone yell from the top rafters of his bedroom set. “Do you want the lights hanging or off to the side today?”

“Off to the side!” He beamed, directing the placement with his hand. “If you can, attach a reflector near the headboard of the bed?”

The man complied, and Armin felt himself standing tall, hands on his hips as his busy set filled him with pride.

When the noise in that area started to swell, he gleefully grabbed the large megaphone in order to shout his orders. With his flat cap laying lopsided on his head, and army boots that made him look at least two inches taller, he started to feel the confidence needed for the Hollywood director he wanted to be.

It wasn’t until 10:30 that his lead actors arrived, with no need for extras that day. Christa filed into her dressing room quickly, followed by Ymir, with her costumes hanging over her shoulder.

Armin could only guess that it wasn’t just going to be changing between the women in that dressing room. Some hard working costumer he had under his belt. With a snicker, he shrugged it off, and was greeted by a smiling, eager looking Jean. 

“You know Arlert, you don’t have to thank me for pulling all those strings months ago.” He teased, taking Armin’s hand with a firm shake.  “You’re the boss here, so I guess I should be thanking you, ya fish.”

“For what? Not firing you, despite your lousy performance?” Armin snickered, and just barely swatted Jean’s hand away as it went to muss up his hair. 

“Heh, honestly though, you’ve been doing great, kid.” Jean smiled, patting him on the shoulder as he walked passed. “I’m a little scared to see Director Arlert come out in full force- AGH”

Screeching strings from an out-of-tune violin blasted in their ears as their two musicians got into place. Jean quickly took that as his cue to scoot, the irritated glower on his face softened only slightly when he nodded a momentary goodbye.

Armin almost forgot just how scary Jean’s face could get. Like a Brooklyn thug. He’d make sure to use it to his advantage on screen.

His attention, however, was on the little tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw the pristine smile and pale blue eyes of Annie Leonhardt.

He almost felt ridiculous for how much he’d missed her that morning. After all, they’d spent the night together consistently since coming back to L.A. Armin could see the exhaustion in her eyes, and a twinge of guilt hit him when he realized what, or rather  _ who _ , had kept her up the night before.  

“Morning, bearcat-”

Annie placed a finger on his lips, and peaked behind his shoulder.

“I’m stealing you for a second.”

She grabbed his hand, and Armin was more than happy to follow her anywhere. At the moment, it was just her dressing room. Annie closed the door tight behind them (as if someone would ever walk into an actress's changing room without knocking,) and turned her back to him.

“Mind unbuttoning my frock for me?” She asked, and Armin was embarrassingly eager to comply. 

“Is this what you needed me for?” He teased, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. The little jolt she gave in response brought a smile to his face. As did the fresh hickeys on her shoulders. “I-I am a bit busy today, Ms. Hart.”

“‘Ms. Hart,’ he says. What kind of diva do you take me for?” Annie was relishing in his presence. Her skin felt warm to the touch, Armin noticed the moment his finger traced her back. When he was done with the buttons, he helped her slide the dress down her body until only her step-in was left. Before he could give her any space to change, Armin felt her body against his.

Busy schedule or not, he wasn’t going to complain. He wrapped his arms around her, tight, and rested his chin against the top of her head as they slowly swayed back and forth.  

_ Annie, marry me. _

His cheeks grew crimson at the memory. Luckily, he was able to fight back his groan. It’d been weeks since he accidentally let those words fly out of his mouth, but it still made his stomach churn. And even if he did see it coming and understood why, hearing her say no?

That stung just as hard.

He was always quick to push that feeling back.  _ It’s not fair to her, you idiot.  _

As he let out a content sigh, he could hear Annie humming against his chest.

“You’re always so warm,” She said, a soft smile pulling at her lips as she looked up at him. “I don’t get how you can stand it.”

He snickered, kissing her nose before she pushed off of him to get dressed.

She slipping into her pale pink nightgown, the costume she wore for the majority of the final third of the film. Armin tied the back draw strings, and could barely contain his smile.

The only thing that could possibly make her more adorable to him in that moment was the curly blonde wig. However, that had to wait till after she was done with her makeup.

“Are we doing close-ups today?” She asked, lifted up her eyelid as she began applying her heavy screen makeup. Armin nodded, and moved closer to her. He found himself fascinated with the process, how the colors applied to the face reflected the lights. He was lucky Levi was as skilled a cameraman as he was, and he knew it. 

_ “Hit them with the wrong light at the wrong angle, and even a newborn baby will show up looking like an old hag, kid.”  _ He remembered Levi mumbling as he puffed his pipe to life, somewhat reluctant to even be sitting with Armin during one of their breaks.  _ “If an actor ever pissed me off, my footing might just slip during a shoot.” _

Armin was only briefly lost in his own thoughts, as Annie’s soft hand against his brought him back to reality. 

“Have you been reading the papers recently, Armin?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “A bit. Should I be?”

“If you want to stay up on the big gossip, maybe.” Her demeanor was unchanged, but something in her voice made him curious. Perhaps it was the question, as she herself usually didn’t care about such things. “Hearst’s people have really been looking for a new scandal since Hay’s came to town and Arbuckle was acquitted. I guess Bill Taylor’s murder wasn’t enough for them. Went cold too fast...”  She applied her face powder with relative composure, in contrast to the slight but apparent urgency in her usual monotone. Anyone who wasn’t Armin Arlert could easily miss such a thing. “Lesser papers and magazines are kissing ass, racing to see who can find the next headline...Even Dok’s starting to slime up the place. Old Nile and his little puppy dog Marlowe. By far, they ask my least favorite questions during interviews.” She stopped briefly only to apply her lipstick. 

 For a moment, Armin could only stare at her, head resting against his palm as he sat in the chair he pulled up next to her vanity.  _ Why bring it up? _

Of course he knew the answer. There wasn’t a time he’d known her that Annie wasn’t deeply afraid of scandal. Though she’d never quite been so open, in her own way, about it.

He was shocked she hadn’t changed the subject yet.

“Did he...did you speak with your father recently, Annie?” 

Though the pause that followed only lasted a few seconds, Armin still found it jarring. Of course that would be the question she avoids.

“Dok’s got it in good with Paramount,” She spoke up again, as she began to apply a layer of eye and brow makeup. “They’re not too happy with me right now, you know.”

“I know…” He grabbed her free hand, giving it a comforting, light squeeze. “You must really love me if you’re still on this project.”

“Oh? And what’s that supposed to mean, boy scout?”

“I mean, it is risky. I’m an absolute liability.”

“Armin…” She laced her fingers with his, looking at him with knit brows. Armin chuckled in response, and kissed her cheek.

“I can’t promise you this will all go well, but you know? I’m really trying my best to go for complexity over exploitation with this premise.” He smiled soft but bright, and Annie turned her gaze back to the mirror. “Hacking Jean with an axe may cause a few eyebrows to raise, I won’t kid, but you know that well enough. You’re anxious, but you’re sticking around anyway. Even after your father voiced his, uhm, disapproval. I’m rambling, but, what I want to say is that you shouldn’t let fear hold you back. And I’m certainly honored that around me, you’re able to get passed it.”

She was silent. Underneath all the white face powder, however, he could see the faintest of blushes. As she started to apply the thick rouge, he wondered if it was more as an attempt to cover herself up.

He brought her free hand to his lips, pressing kisses to each finger. “Now, Annie Leonhardt, will you allow me to get back to work?”

Finally, he caught the little smile he’d been hoping for. Annie turned to him, eyes meeting his as she leaned in to steal one last kiss before work had to be done.

“Fine. Leave me. I have to do my hair anyhow.” Annie nudged her nose against Armin’s, chest growing warm at the boyish excitement on his face. “Though, you’re right about one thing. I admit, I love you more than I should.”

His smile grew cheeky, before stealing a kiss on the nose. “I know.”

* * *

 

The instruments were thankfully in tune by the time Armin called for places.

Annie sat at the edge of the large, canopied bed, leaning against the posts as the familiar clicks of the camera could be heard underneath the serene music of a cellist’s solo.

Bach’s cello suite was always a favorite of hers when it came time to film. It made it easier for her to slip into the role of an more innocent young woman. The atmosphere on set during filming was so completely different than it was during pre-production. Armin sat forward in his seat, a focused look on his face as his megaphone rested on his knee. The sound of saws and hammer, shouts and sewing machines, were all far away. Quite literally, as they were thankfully muffled that evening. 

With the music, and rhythmic clicking of the camera as Levi cranked away, Annie felt like she could just as easily be lulled into a well needed nap. 

“Levi, if you could just get a little closer to her- that’s perfect. Alright, Annie, follow my finger with your eyes please. I’d like you to crease your brow just a little more.” Armin’s voice was stern, yet still so soft. “You just woke up alone, your sister nowhere to be seen in this mansion you two are only just barely familiar with. Then you hear a knocking. Though not at the door.” Annie brought a hand to her mouth, running her fingers down her lip and to her chin. With subtle movements, she turned her head and widened her eyes. Anxiety was always best conveyed through the eyes, she’d learned long ago.

Armin called for a cut, only to reposition the camera and a few lights. 

“Play  _ Danse Macarbe _ for me.” Annie asked of the little quartet, before she put herself back in position and waited for Armin to yell  _ “Action!” _

 The camera rolled again, and Annie frantically moved from her spot on the bed to the wall, as instructed. She pressed her ear up against the wall, moving her body and walking along with the noises her character heard.

Confusion struck her face when, as Armin said, the noises stopped. Only to come back louder more menacing.

“Push off, back up into the bed before you even think of moving back there.”

His voice was almost down to a whisper. One hand went into the mess of a wig her character called hair, grasped at locks of golden curls as she calmed herself down.

The camera angle was shifted once again. Armin instructed her to crouch as she walked back up to the wall, and pressed her ear and body against the spot where the imaginary pounding originated. 

“Don’t be too slow, but do take your time. Now you’re at the door to the hallway. Go to turn the knob, but it won’t open. The door is locked, somehow from the outside.”

Eyes wide and brows furrowed, Annie shook the door knob with increasing urgency. 

“Eren, make sure Christa’s in place?  _ Without _ getting in the way of the shot!”

The other man did as he was asked, and Annie made sure not to break character.

Though out of the corner of her eye she saw something that almost did. There was nothing unusual about a picture’s producer making an unexpected visit. And Erwin Smith had a penchant for being particularly unpredictable. He stood toward the back after quietly stopping in, prosthetic arm in place and covered up as to draw no attention. As if one could pay attention to that when he walked around in his old uniform from the Great War. 

No, what Annie found unusual was the presence of two other men at his side. Men she unfortunately recognized, and who were already on her mind. Nile Doc spoke to Erwin with furrowed brows and crossed arms, while Marlowe stood there in awe at the sets and scenes going on around him.

Her stomach sank.  _ I don’t need this. _

“Annie?” Armin’s voice broke through, giving her a slight jump. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” She took a deep breath, getting back into position as Armin yelled  _ “Camera!” _

“Action!”

Just as they had rehearsed and Armin instructed, Annie began to bang her fists against the door. When no one answered back, her face contorted into panic and fear.

“WAAGHHHHHHHHH-” She started again, this time adding in a scream that no one, not even Armin expected.

Movies, he learned, though silent to the audience, were in no way silent to the cast and crew. Despite the look Levi gave him, he decided not to cut, and motioned for him to continue cranking.

It looked more natural. In fact, he smiled wide as she let out another cry for help.

Unknown to him, it was barely acting. As she pounded her fists against the door and let out wails of  _ “help me!” _ and panicked screams, it felt downright therapeutic. 

Against the door she saw the face of a familiar police officer. One she hadn’t seen since she was a child. One she  _ barely _ even recognized as the man from that fateful day in 1909.

And, she saw her father. The twisted, stressed part of her mind made her feel like a child again, throwing a temper tantrum against the anything causing her grief at a time where she didn’t have much peace to begin with.

She would have probably started laughing if it weren’t for Armin’s voice breaking in, yelling for Christa to open the door. 

“Annie, you’re relieved! It’s your sister, and she’s okay!” As she came back down to Earth, Annie was fully back in character and grabbed Christa by the shoulders, pulling her in for a tight hug.

“Are you alright, darling?” Christa asked, and it took her a moment to realize that she was saying it as her character's younger sister, Anna. And she was the older sister, Mary.

She nodded her head, burying her face in her sister’s shoulder before Armin yelled cut.  

“Annie, that was wonderful!” He hopped up onto the set, placing a hand on each shoulder and smiling. If there were less people around, he would have pulled her in for a kiss right there. “Who knew you had those lungs?”

Despite it all, a little smile tugged at her lips.

“And how! We thought someone was getting killed there for a moment.”

And the smile was promptly gone.

Armin snapped around, and the nerves clearly crept up on him as Erwin and his guests walked up to the set.

“Afternoon, sir.” He said, straightening up his back and sticking out his hand to shake. Smith gave him a curt smile and a nod, before motioning to his friends.

“Mr. Arlert, you’ve met Nile and Marlowe.”

“I believe we spoke a bit on Halloween!” Armin stretched a hand out for the other men, plastering on a smile. They each took a firm shake, Nile’s grip left his hand a little numb. “I, uh, hope you don’t mind me asking but, uhm, what brings you here today?”

Annie made a point of standing behind Armin, eyes downcast and unwilling to look up. Their connections to Paramount would surely come up.

“Well, my journalist friends over here have been selected by the papers to run a spread on the making of a film and the workings of the studio lot. The first major studio they asked turned them down, but were  _ kind _ enough to point in our direction.” Erwin’s professionalism knew no bounds, but the intrusive feelings were there. “You have the most star power in your picture, and we’re taking advantage of it.”

“Is...is that so?” A nervous chuckle escaped his lips. Armin cocked an eyebrow, and couldn’t help but wonder why they would be interested in any of the goings on of Maria Rose. 

Though he had a fair idea. The paper’s first pick had to be Paramount.

They currently had one of their bigger money makers of the past couple of years, after all. If it was somehow payback for Annie skipping out on her contract there, he wasn’t about to let them so easily get to her.

“You should feel honored, Mr. Arlert.” Nile tapped his foot, growing impatient with the directors tacit body language. “You’re getting a political endorsement here too, ya know.”

“I...what?”

At this, even Erwin became noticeably uncomfortable. 

“That’s right. Senator Reiss is likely to pay a visit for a day.”  

Out of the corner of his eye, he was shocked to see Christa, of all people, go completely rigid.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erwin let Armin borrow the boots. They're far too big on him, but he made sure no one noticed.  
> I hope you guys had a good winter break, and I hope whatever temperature it is where you are, you're powering through! I'm in NY, so I'm freezing my ass off unfortunately.  
> Feedback is greatly encouraged! I'm not on my hands and knees, I swear. (I absolutely am.)
> 
> Historical and Slang notes:  
> Löwenbaby- Lion cub  
> Es ist kalt hier.- It's cold in here  
> Bearcat- hot-blooded or fiery girl  
> Hearst- William Randolph Hearst, American newspaper publisher and magnate who built the nation's largest newspaper chain and whose methods profoundly influenced American journalism. Also had a very long-term affair with actress and comedienne Marion Davies.  
> Hay's- William H. Hay's, President of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America, namesake of the Hays Code for censorship of American films, and senator who, after the scandals of the early 1920s, was seen as saving the movie industry after said scandals had "tarnished" its name in the eyes of middle America.  
> Arbuckle- Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle, I'm not being mean that was seriously his stage name, was one of the most famous and beloved comedians of silent film in the 1910s, and was even responsible for bringing Buster Keaton into the spotlight. Unfortunately. during a labor day party he hosted in 1921, a young starlet named Virginia Rappe died, and Arbuckle was blamed. It's absolutely certain he had nothing to do with it, but the papers saw a money making headline, and he was charged with her death. After three sensational trials, he was acquitted and exonerated, however his reputation was ruined and he was blacklisted. This incident practically single handedly brought about the Hay's Code.  
> Bill Taylor- Respected silent film director William Desmond Taylor, who was murdered in his Hollywood home in 1922. The case was never solved. If you'd like to learn more about this case, I'd recommend the books "A Cast of Killers" by Sidney Kirkpatrick and "Tinseltown" by William J Mann, the latter of which I'm currently in the middle of!  
> Bach's cello suite, if anyone would like to hear it! :) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=REu2BcnlD34

**Author's Note:**

> Behold, the reason I haven't updated Laying Low in four months.  
> An odd little hobby/interest of mine is that I absolutely adore silent films and early cinema. So when this idea popped into my head one day I had to run with it. It was too fun to pass up!! Even if others don't care about silent film very much, what better way is there to spark an interest then fanfiction? So here it is, I really hope you all enjoy! Now, as it is finals week for my poor college ass, I may not get to updating either fic till winter break, but it'l come! I'm too stubborn to give up on writing anything! If you notice any glaring historical inaccuracies, don't be afraid to point them out to me! I did a lot of research, but even history majors make mistakes. Enjoy!
> 
> History and slang notes. Let's learn things!:  
> rhatz- damn, disappointing. Basically what you'd expect.  
> Left holding the bag- Left hanging, cheated out of something.  
> egg- a person who lives the big life.  
> An ace- A dollar  
> D.W. Griffith- Known as the father of American cinema, he was a visionary and influential director through out the 1910's and 20's. However, on a darker note, he was also the director of the infamously racist 1915 film Birth of a Nation. Yes, even for 1915 it was a bit much. Seriously. He was quick to regret it, though even that's debatable, and the next year he would come out with the epic Intolerance, which basically had the exact opposite message. It's on netflix, I'd check it out if you don't mind 3 hour movies!  
> Wet Blanket- Kill joy  
> Fella- Basically the same as today  
> Get Hot!- Encouragement for a dancer to do their thing. Ya know.  
> Sloshed/edge/buzzed/zozzled- Several of a million euphemisms for drunk  
> Futz- Fuck  
> Sock- Punch  
> Banks closed- No hugging, no kissing.  
> Necking- Make out  
> There's a small mention here of the Spanish flu, which was a massive world wide flu pandemic in 1918. Millions of people around the world were killed, it was absolutely devastating.  
> Photoplay- It was essentially the Entertainment Weekly magazine of the early 20th century in a way. It featured articles and reviews on films and actors, as well as advertisements for beauty and house products. There are some gorgeous covers featuring various early film stars if you want to check them out!  
> Charlie Chaplin- The greatest film icon of the day and still one of the most influential comedians ever.  
> Mary Pickford- The first movie star. At the time, the most famous woman in the world. Though I myself prefer Lillian Gish, she was immensely talented and gorgeous. Also an idol of mine.  
> goofy- In love  
> Grummy- upset  
> Bushwa- Bullshit. This one should come back.  
> What's eating you?- What's wrong?  
> Sap- A fool  
> Dame- a woman  
> Baby vamp- Femme Fatale. The exact opposite of the...  
> Ingenue- An endearingly wholesome, innocent, and virginal young woman.  
> Icy mitt- rejection  
> Casting couch- Sleeping with someone for a role.  
> Jake- Great. Kinda curious of how this got started.  
> Let's ankle- Let's go  
> and as for a larger historical context, in the early 1920s Hollywood was plagued by a number of scandals, from drug overdoses and murders, to the infamous Roscoe Arbuckle trial. As Middle America was turning against the film industry as they saw it as immoral (go figure), rules were starting to be set down as the blacklist was a looming threat and people could be banned from film if any bad behavior became public. There's a lot more to it and it's a very fascinating situation that if you're interested, I'd do a google search and have at it!


End file.
